


Us In Motion

by Fells_Kitten (SquirrleyCow)



Series: Don't You Remember? [2]
Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: #but still penis, Aftercare, Angst...?, BDSM, F/F, F/M, Gore, I'll add more tags as needed, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, No Ecto-Penis, Obsession, Past Abuse, Past Lives, Reader is bi, Sans has invisible skin, Sans is a dom, Sans is bi, Sans sings!, Smut, Stalking, Underfell, Vore, all the monsters are basically bi or pan, buckle up kiddos it's gonna get dark, i'm gonig to try a slow burn, it's my headcannon anyway, or at least a slower burn than the first part of this series, reader is a also a sub/dom, reader is experienced, reader is female, resets leave fragments behind, sans is also a sub, sans/reader - Freeform, violence mentioned and implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquirrleyCow/pseuds/Fells_Kitten
Summary: The kid has wiped the world clean, you've forgotten your past life with Sans and the monsters. You can't explain the sudden attraction and trust you feel when you meet him in Grillby's bar. Vivid visions of the skeleton start to invade your thoughts, and you can't shake the familiarity of his presence. You're also inexplicably haunted by nightmares and have a deep-rooted fear of cats...Can you convince Sans you belong together, or will this be the reset where he doesn't fall for you?*I'm probably going to get into the habit of updating every two weeks. That timeline really worked for me with the last chapter, I had time to edit and get everything right without pressuring myself.***Us In Motion Playlist, any song mentioned specifically and played will be added to playlist as it appears in the updates. : https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlsnUBc5D3oZbaPY1zncoBNkr-b3EKlC5





	1. Us In Motion

**Author's Note:**

> So, I realized the next part of the story was probably going to be a separate story of it's own. This does reference the previous work often, just be prepared for that if you don't want to read the first part. I also tried to write the first part as a one-shot, but I liked the characters too much to leave it be. This time around the story is going in chronological order, so it's not going to be a head-first dive into smut. But it'll get there ;P 
> 
> Enjoy! ^u^
> 
> Oh! And the chapters of this one are going to be named after Get Scared songs!

You wake up with a harsh gasp, sitting straight up. You blink and fresh tears streak down your cheeks. You wipe at them angrily. You were getting pretty sick of these night terrors.  
  
Someone stirs beside you and your head snaps back to look at them.  
  
You think her name was Heather? Hazel? It was something old-fashioned and flowery. She rolls from her back to her side, facing away from you. The metal rings on the leather collar at her neck jingle quietly. She wanted to sleep with it on, you remember. She was also one of the few humans in the bar last night.  
  
Another form moves to cuddle with her. This one you did know, she was a bunny named Theodora. She was one of the performers you'd quickly made friends with at the brand new monster bar, _Grillby's Part Deux_. It had only been open for a month, but it was already popular.  
  
Yet another monster at Theodora's back groans and drowsily adjusts his weight. You frown in thought. His name was...Hector, you remember with satisfaction. He was a solid black wolf, about six foot five, and a very giving lover.  
  
The monsters drew in droves of curious people, you were one of them. And you were more than happy to be a regular patron of the elegant and massive bar.  
  
You wipe again at your face before sliding out of bed. The room is one you recognize, but it belonged to none of you. You'd rented a play-room for the night. There just wasn't enough room for the four of you in Theodora's cramped room and you didn't feel like going back to your hotel.  
  
Lately, you'd been having night terrors again. They started a few months ago and it felt like they were happening more often. You used to have them after the accident that killed your parents... But you hadn't had them like this. You always wake up with a pounding headache, and can never remember what you dreamed about.  
  
You know sleep won't come after that, so you quickly pull on last nights skin-tight dress and check your makeup with the compact in your purse. You pull out a baby wipe and carefully clean the smudged eyeliner and lipstick from your skin before reapplying your lipstick and plumping your eyelashes back up with mascara.  
  
The dark green dress was strapless and stopped just under your butt. You slide into your black heels and step into the narrow hallway, quietly shutting the door behind you.  
  
You pull your phone from your purse before you start slowly walking toward the front area of the bar. You can't really explain it, but an impatience has been nagging at you for weeks. It felt like you were waiting for something to happen, but you had no idea what. It made you a little more uninhibited when it came to sex. In your opinion, it was a great way to kill time and distract you from your growing unease.  
  
You look up from your phone when you see something flash from the corner of your eyes. You aren't surprised when you see nothing and you put your phone away. That had been happening a lot lately, too. It must be from lack of sleep, you reason.  
  
You can smell breakfast already cooking in the kitchen, but you're not staying for breakfast today. You'll be back tonight, because you had nothing better to do, but you had to meet with your lawyer and some executives this morning to sort out some final legalities about your great-uncles company.  
  
You round the corner where the hallway ends in a thick velvet curtain and opens into the main bar and walk right into something solid.  
  
You take a few steps back to regain your balance on the stilettos, blinking away the pain in your nose. You laugh, "Sorry about that, I didn't see you."  
  
Your vision comes back and a sick feeling rolls through your stomach. A tortoiseshell cat-monster stands very still a few feet in front of you. He looks down at his shirt and tries to brush off the makeup you'd left from the impact.  
  
"No worr..." his voice fades out when he looks up. His narrow pupils quickly dilate in his bright green eyes. "Whoa," he breathes. "Ha-have we met?" he asks uncertainly.  
  
You shake your head, clutching the purse at your shoulder with both hands. You hated cats. Most people who were afraid of or didn't like animals had a normal focus. Like spiders, snakes, and dogs. But not you. For you, cats were the absolute worst.  
  
You try to push away the silly discomfort and force a smile. "S-sorry, no, we haven't. But I-I come here a lot." you explain, telling yourself this was a monster. He was sentient. He wouldn't be like regular cats. He wasn't like regular cats.  
  
"I'm Taa, I work in the kitchen." he holds out his paw with a smile and after a moment of hesitation, you take it and shake it.  
  
Something clenches tight in your stomach and you reflexively grip his paw tighter. Your head pounds and you release his paw like it was a hot coal. "I-I have to go, I'm sorry." Your words spill from your mouth as you quickly leave, not even waving good-bye to Grillby.  
  
Outside in the cold spring morning you gasp for air. You wince when a stab of pain erupts behind your eyes.  
  
"Damn it, I don't need a migraine today." You grumble as you catch your breath and flag down a taxi.  
  
*  
  
The strange interaction with the cat...Taa...bothers you all day. You barely listen during the meeting, not that you really needed to, your lawyer would explain everything later. The excedrin you downed in the taxi weren't doing anything to alleviate the pounding in your skull.  
  
By the time you get back to your hotel suite you can barely keep your eyes open through the stabbing pain from the light.  
  
You step out of your heels the moment you exit the elevator, dropping your purse on the couch as you walk by it. With one hand holding your head and the other trailing ahead on the hallway wall, you make your way to the bedroom. You find your way easily in the dark to the cool sheets of your bed and climb in.  
  
Sleep doesn't come easy or quickly, and when it does it's not gentle either.  
  
*  
  
You wake screaming, thrashing wildly in the sheets. It takes a long, terrifying moment to reach the bedside lamp to light the pitch black room.  
  
Your chest heaves, sweat drips down your skin, your body is shaking.  You tightly close your eyes when images from the nightmare flash.  
  
_Dark green eyes loom over you, filling your vision, your thoughts, penetrating your soul..._  
  
_You fight. But something warm and impossibly heavy pulls you down and you give in._  
  
_You feel..._  
  
_Deeply violated..._  
  
_Like you've been drugged and left naked in an alley..._  
  
You groan with the effort of pushing the nightmare down, away, as far from you as possible. Your hands fist and cover your face as you continue to tremble.  
  
A name dances at the edge of your awareness and a few traces of calm come with it. You struggle to remember the name that settles the storm within you. All you can know for sure is that the color red is _definitely_ associated with the name.  
  
Something pulses in your chest, pushing gently on your sternum. A cool comfort seeps through your veins. Slowly, you catch your breath and you let your hands fall to your lap before falling back against the pillows.  
  
You fall back to sleep with a smile on your face.  
  
*  
  
It takes you a few days to work up the courage to return to Grillby's bar. Doggo nods in recognition when you step inside. You walk up to the bar and order something to settle your nerves. You were still uneasy about the cat-monster you'd met last time you were here. You idly wonder why the other cat-monsters don't upset you as much. Probably because they never talked to you, that had to be it.  
  
You slide onto a bar stool sideways so you face the stage on the left side of the massive building. A soft red flame-monster returns with your drink. She smiles when you hand her a fifty-dollar bill, tucking it into the pocket of her mini-skirt. "Could you keep my glass full, please?" You ask with a coy smile and a wink.  
  
Her red flames burn darker beneath her eyes and she looks away with a giggle. "Sure thing," her voice crackles like a campfire and she looks back at you with a smile before she walks to the far side of the bar to take another order.  
  
The night hasn't picked up and the bar is sparsely filled, maybe a dozen monster and human patrons sit at the tables in front of the stage. There's plenty of room between each filled table.  
  
You lean your right arm on the smooth wooden bar top and sip your drink as you watch the band setting up on the stage. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, the performers got the night off. Every Sunday was 'open mic night' and Tuesdays and Thursdays were for live music. The only exception was going to be during the first monster-heat party next month. Those three nights were going to have live music and performers.  
  
It looked like the band tonight was going to be several monsters, a bear and a deer are checking the mics and putting together the drum-set, but a bass guitar and a plain guitar rest in stands. So you assume there was at least one member of the band that hadn't showed up yet. The deer turns and you see the top of his right antler has broken off, losing a few points compared to the other.  
  
You aren't sure what kind of music they'll be playing. They were both dressed in black jeans, black shoes and red shirts. The deer wears a plain black jacket and the bear wears a thick black leather studded collar around their neck. Basically par-for-the-course when it came to monster attire. So they could be singing pop love songs or death metal, or something in-between. You'd heard a wide variety of music performed here.  
  
Though you have to admit, you were pretty surprised the first time you heard monsters do trap music. They seemed to take a shine to it as well as hard rock, but that wasn't as surprising to you.  
  
After thirty minutes and two refills on your drink, the pair on stage begin to look nervously around the bar, glancing back at each other often. About two dozen more monsters have come in. A few wave or nod in greeting to you and you smile back.  
  
Another twenty minutes pass and you realize the music should have definitely have started by now. The deer hops gracefully off the stage and lightly trots to the bar. The bartender comes to meet him and you can't help your urge to eavesdrop...  
  
"He's late!" the deer hisses quietly, his ears flicking back in annoyance.  
  
"He's always late, don't worry about it." she replies with a dismissive wave and a smile. "Remember how bad he was underground? You guys always had another act fill in your time-slot at the tower, because if he was five minutes late, he was going to be another hour late."  
  
"Ugh, don't remind me. He was such a dick back then. Does anyone back there know how to play bass?" the deer gestures with his chin to the kitchen entrance. "Minerva can fill in for the vocals, I know that much."  
  
She pours two shots of top-shelf tequila and hands them to the deer. "He'll show, and Minnie isn't working tonight anyway."  
  
"Shit." He growls, taking one of the shot glasses and throwing it back with a quiet wince. He quickly downs the second one, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he sets the shot glass down.  
  
"It'll be fine, it'll be another hour or more before the bar gets at capacity." She refills the shot glasses, but stops him before he takes one. "These are for Ted, she looks pretty rattled, too. People like to hear the skeleton croon, they won't care that he's late. They never do."  
  
Skeleton?  
  
You finish your drink and set the glass on the bar. You hadn't seen a skeleton before, which was surprising considering you'd basically been living at Grillby's ever since it opened\\.  
  
The bartender refills your glass and you ask her name, "Ina," she replies. You have to admit you're a little smitten with the sweet Ina and you slide her another tip. She tilts her head skeptically at you. "You know, you don't have to keep tipping me for just doing my job, sweetheart."  
  
You feel your stomach flip when she smirks at you. Before you can recover, she walks away to serve someone else and you smile as you watch the sway of her hips.  
  
A very masculine "Ahem," catches your attention. You turn and start to smile back at Grillby but he shifts his hands from his hips and folds his arms across his chest. His white eyes narrow in the purple flames of his face behind his glasses.  
  
He leans over the bar with a dangerous smile. "My daughter's off-limits." he growls, his voice crackling like snapping wood.  
  
Your eyes widen at your own stupidity. Of course the young fire-monster working in his bar was his daughter.  
  
"Shit, Grillby, you know me. I respect the fuck out of boundaries." Jeeze, were you already tipsy? "She's gorgeous, though." His left eye twitches and you quickly backpedal, holding a hand to your chest. "I'll leave her be, don't worry."  
  
He growls again as he stands upright. "She deserves a stable relationship. Not a one-night-stand."  
  
You nod in agreement. "Everyone deserves that." You mumble before adding, "But on my honor, I'll keep it strictly platonic."  
  
He seems satisfied with your answer and slips out from behind the bar to mingle with the patrons.  
  
A third figure has joined the pair on the stage. Their back faces you but you can see they're a good foot taller than the bear. They also wear black pants, but instead of jeans it was a pair of jogging pants. You sip your drink as you study the back of their solid white head. A skeletal hand gestures in the air and you realize it was the obviously the missing skeleton of the band. He's wearing a black jacket, the hood is edged with soft white fluff.  
  
He runs a hand over his skull and his shoulders shake with a laugh you're too far away to hear. The bear snickers and the deer rolls his eyes, gesturing for everyone to take their places.  
  
You sit up straighter in your seat when the skeleton turns to face the bar. His face was round, a wide shark-toothed grin spreads as his red eyes look over the small crowd now clustered near the stage. His sockets were a solid black with small red pupils inside. They find you and stop...  
  
You can feel your heart pound in your chest, hear your pulse in your ears. You stare back at him, motionless. He winks before his eyes begin to roam again, licking the edges of his teeth as he slips the strap of the bass over his head. Surprisingly, he's a lefty.  
  
You take a sizeable gulp of your drink to settle your nerves. You adjust your weight in the bar stool, crossing your legs as you watch the skeleton with bated breath.  
  
"Sorry to keep you lovelies waiting," your throat is suddenly dry as a few people cheer and someone blows a wolf-whistle. His voice is a deep baritone that sends a shiver up your spine. It's so easy to imagine what that voice would sound like against your ear, it's almost as clear as a memory. You close your eyes for a second as you chew the inside of your lip. "you can blame my brother for being a hard-ass about work."  
  
His hand rests on the mic stand and you can see several bracelets circling his wrist bones. Two look like studded black leather, some look like thin strips with metal or charms hanging from them.  
  
" _FUCK_ PAPYRUS!" Someone yells drunkenly. It's followed by a chorus of laughter.  
  
The skeleton on stage chuckles, tilting his head with humor. "Nah, he's not my type." He replies with an amused frown. There's another round of laughter. You notice he has something like lips that cover his teeth in white when he frowned. You wonder if was cold like the other monsters you'd met...  
  
"All right, you fuckers ready for some music?!" He shouts away from the mic. There's an uproar of applause and he glances back at his band-mates. The bear, Ted, spins a drumstick in her paw with a nod. The deer adjusts his guitar, checking one of the pedals by him on the floor before he also nods.  
  
"Good, Grillby, don't get the tracks mixed up again. That fuck-up I had with the lip-syncing really cost us last time." He sighs in mock relief. "Good thing no one remembers _that!"_  
  
You see Grillby flip him off and frown at the stage as laughter erupts again. "Aw, love you too, Grillbs baby." Grillby presents his other hand, also flipping the bird. "Oof, gonna get me all _hot_ and bothered up here." Grillby throws his hands up as the crowd laughs loudly, he stalks off to the kitchen, but you swear you can see a smirk in the flames of his face.  
  
You smile to yourself as you sip your drink again. He certainly had a stage presence...  
  
The first song starts with a bass rift and his fingers deftly pull at the thick strings before the drums and guitar come in, followed quickly by his gravelly voice. You tap your heel against the side of bar in time with the music and find yourself mesmerized.  
  
You recognize a few of their songs and assume they're just playing covers. The skeleton introduces a few original songs and it's hard to determine what their influences are. It leans to hard rock and alternative, but the skeleton slides the bass behind him and the deer pulls out an acoustic guitar for a slower, somber love song that someone requested with a loud yell. "Don't you remember?" is the name of it.  
  
The emotion behind the words make your chest hurt and you find yourself holding a hand over your heart by the end of it. He grips the mic with both hands, losing himself in the words and you suddenly realize the sex appeal of a musician.  
  
You can almost swear you've heard it before somewhere, but you don't care.  
  
The spell is broken for a moment when the audience claps and you realize the bar is nearly packed. You get a refill from Ina and slip off the bar stool to move closer to the stage. You'd been sitting there long enough, it was time to let someone else have a seat.  
  
It's standing room only around the tables set up in front of the stage, but you don't mind. This close you can see that the skeleton is even larger than you thought. He had broad shoulders and when he shimmy's out of his jacket you feel a blush burn your cheeks. His arms were made of thick bones. You can see he's definitely a _strong_ guy.  
  
Similar bracelets wrap around his wrist on his opposite hand. It feels unfamiliar, but suits him, you think. Before you can wonder what you meant by feeling unfamiliar, movement catches your attention. He wipes sweat from his face from the hot stage-lights and you grip your glass tight with both hands when he licks his "lips" before starting the next song. You realize the deer had shed his jacket before him. Wow, you really were distracted.  
  
A few more songs pass before he asks for requests for the last song of the night. His hands rest heavy against the neck and body of his bass.  
  
"Shinedown! 45!"  
  
"Avenged Sevenfold Bat Country!"  
  
"Oof, that's a tall order. Something we've played before, people, c'mon."  
  
"THE DEVIL IN I!"  
  
"Godsmack!"  
  
"Breaking Benjamin!"  
  
He frowns, tilting his head back and forth as he considers the bands and songs thrown at him.  
  
"GET SCARED! MY NIGHTMARE!"  
  
He blinks in surprise at the last call. People cheer and he shrugs, glancing back at his band-mates, who also shrug. He frowns when he glances back at the crowd, nervously licking his teeth. You see his dark red tongue up close and it makes your heart skip a beat.  
  
"I-I dunno..." It's the only time tonight he didn't sound absolutely certain of himself.  
  
"COME ON! You haven't sang it since the underground!" Someone yells, a few others agree.  
  
He rubs the back of his neck, his smile faltering for a moment before he shakes himself out of it. "Yeah, sure, okay, we'll do it."  
  
Drunken applause is his reward and he still seems to enjoy the attention, his smile returning, but not as certain as it was before.  
  
"Somebody better be buyin' me a drink for this one," he jokes with a wink before they start the song.  
  
The moment he starts singing a strange deja vu fills you, sobering you immediately. He sings with his sockets shut, his face scrunching when he pours raw emotion into the lyrics. The same ache you'd felt earlier when he sang returns with renewed strength. When the song slows, you can feel the pain in his voice. It suddenly switches to screaming and he snatches the mic stand, pulling it to his face as actual bitter rage pours from him. The verse finishes and he opens his eyes, they're unfocused as he picks his bass back up and close again for the final chorus.  
  
There's a huge round of applause and he opens his eyes again, smiling weakly before slipping back into his stage persona. This time you can see the broad smile is fake and for some reason it hurts you.  
  
Music picks up from the bar and the hum of people talking returns after the near two hours of relative crowd silence.  
  
His smile fades and he turns as he slips the bass strap over his head. His eyes find you, standing perfectly still in the slowly dispersing crowd and staring up at him. He pauses, his face falling blank before his sockets furrow in confusion and something like recognition shines in his eyes.  
  
Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away, but don't move from your spot. When you glance back at the stage he's shrugging his jacket back on and jumping lightly down to the floor. Your heart leaps to your throat when he makes a bee-line right for you. The intensity of his gaze almost intimidates you.  
  
Almost.  
  
He stands before you and you have to tilt your head back to look at his face. "Sans," he says with a lopsided smile.  
  
"Huh?" you blurt without thinking.  
  
He laughs. "I'm Sans." he repeats and you realize it's his name. God you feel like an idiot. "Anyone ever tell you it's not polite to stare?" he asks, his smile growing.  
  
"Well, you can't expect to be center-stage and have people _not_ stare." You reply, satisfied your brain decided to return.  
  
He shrugs. "True, but you were pretty... I've never seen you at a show, I usually only see people stare like that when they're fans."  
  
You finally relax your grip on your glass and blood flows back to your fingers. "I'm _definitely_ a fan after that performance."  
  
He laughs again and it makes you smile in return. "Y-you said someone should buy you a drink for that last song. Mind if I buy you one?"  
  
He considers it for a moment, his eyes trailing down your body to your feet. He blinks and his eyes are looking back into yours. "I can't say no to a gorgeous woman."  
  
You roll your eyes at the cheesy compliment but smile back at him as you walk to the bar. He follows pretty close behind. You can feel heat against your cheekbones and you've already lost count of how many times that's happened tonight.  
  
You two wait patiently for Ina to get to you. The bar was swarmed after the live music ended. Grillby walks purposefully into the kitchen and two of the kitchen staff jog past you to get behind the bar.  
  
Your stomach folds into a knot when you recognize the cat you'd ran into, literally, earlier in the week. You quickly look away when you see him turn and Sans watches you curiously. "He an ex or something?" he asks lightly.  
  
You can only shake your head, your throat too dry to speak.  
  
Ina leans on the bar, you hadn't noticed her walk up and you jump when she asks what you want to order.  
  
You clear your throat and compose yourself. "I'd love a long island iced tea, strong as you can make it, and whatever he's having, put it on my tab."  
  
Ina looks to Sans. "My usual, please. Thanks, Ina." She nods and starts pulling liquor bottles down from the shelves at the back of the bar.  
  
You down the rest of your nearly-forgotten drink and set the glass on the bar. You were not going to let this fear get in the way of your night. You just had to get over it. But you still try to hide your face whenever Taa even glances in your direction. Unfortunately, Sans notices, though he tries to make it less obvious than before.  
  
Ina comes back with your drinks. Your long island has minimal ice and you thank her as you take your first sip. You blink hard in surprise. She definitely took your order to heart. Sans has a glass filled nearly to the brim with an amber-colored liquor, no ice. Ina pulls a can of soda from underneath the bar and hands it to him. He thanks her and looks to you.  
  
"So...wanna find a table?"  
  
You manage a smile and nod.  
  
"C'mon, there's a booth near the back that I like." he gestures with his chin before leading the way through the thinly spread crowd. A few people tell him they loved the set-list tonight, or that it was good to see him again, someone asked when they'd be performing again and he replies easily, "Probably next Thursday, we'd really like to get a regular schedule going."  
  
You smile, starting to feel more at ease.  
  
Sans leads you to a booth in the far corner of the bar, where only a half-dozen people have taken some of the free tables or booths. You slide into the crushed velvet seat, holding the tied curtain back, and Sans sits across from you. He cracks open the soda can before taking a sizable gulp from his glass, chasing it with the soda.  
  
You raise your eyebrows. "I'm guessing a big guy like you, it takes a lot to get drunk?"  
  
He smiles with a shrug. "You caught me."  
  
You chuckle as you sip your own drink. "So, I'm here almost every night, why haven't I seen you before?"  
  
"I guess we've just managed to miss each other. I come here every night, usually after midnight and I stay till close."  
  
"Ah," you smile. "I'm usually uh, preoccupied by that time of night."  
  
He laughs before taking another drink. "Oh yeah, I could see that."  
  
You roll your eyes again, but don't fight the smile pulling at your lips.  
  
"What do you do? Like for fun, or for a living, whichever."  
  
He frowns for a second. "I got a couple jobs underground still. Music and drinking kind of fill up the rest of my time. What about you?"  
  
"I'm uh, I inherited a hotel chain and it basically runs itself. I guess... I like video games, movies, music and, yeah... drinking and BDSM."  
  
He coughs, covering his mouth to keep the liquor from spewing everywhere. He pounds his clenched fist with moderate force on the table as he struggles to stop coughing. "You okay?" You ask, concerned when he takes longer than you expected to recover.  
  
He nods, his face still scrunched up as he starts laughing between coughs.  
  
"I-I was not expecting you to say that." he finally says, still chuckling as he sits back up.  
  
You give a mildly embarrassed shrug with a frown that fails to hide your smile. You feel kind of proud of yourself for catching him off-guard. You get the feeling that doesn't happen to him often. "I like to be open about myself when I meet new people. Saves me the headache of them finding out later and being judgy bitches about it." You take a long drink of your iced tea.  
  
"I...uh haven't met many humans who were that comfortable about those 'lifestyle choices'."  
  
"You haven't been going to the right places then." You say with a mischievous grin.  
  
His skull tilts as he looks back at you, it felt like he was trying to size you up or get an idea of who you really were. "I guess I haven't." he admits.  
  
"Are you, you know, into that?" you ask, your toes curling in your heels with anticipation.  
  
His smile is absolutely devilish, his voice getting gravelly as his sockets narrow seductively. "Oh, fuck yeah." he half-whispers.  
  
Something tugs behind your navel as blood rushes to your core. It takes a moment for you recover. It was exactly how you'd imagined his voice would sound whispering against your skin. Something flashes in your brain, his face overcome with passion, sweat rolling down his skull. You grip the seat beneath you tight enough to hurt your fingertips.  
  
Why were you seeing and imagining sexual things about this monster so _vividly?_ This had never happened with anyone else. Even when your mind wandered, which it did at least once while talking to a potential play-date, it was never so clear. Never.  
  
Sans winks at you and you have to cough to cover the squeak that was trying to claw up your throat.  
  
Fuck. He was somehow pushing all your buttons. Was he that good at reading someone, or was this one of those rare times where you genuinely clicked with someone?  
  
Well, if he was going to so casually tease you, two could play that game.  
  
You slide to the wall of the booth and cross your legs on top of the seat, moving your drink within reaching distance. You glance sideways at him as you pull your legs up so your knees are peeking above the table. He looks away, almost casually, taking another gulp of his drink. He winces, closing his eyes before he reaches for the soda for a chaser.  
  
He was half-way through what you assumed was about five or six fingers of liquor. A soft red blush was clinging to his cheekbones and you weren't sure if it was all because of the alcohol.  
  
You both continue talking, quickly finishing your drinks. You throw playful jabs at each other, feeling out the limits of the conversation. A few bad jokes are exchanged and he repays you for nearly making him spit his drink out earlier by casually mentioning he loved topping someone, but he loved being a submissive even more. Though he was incredibly picky with who he subbed with.  
  
When you recover, finally swallowing your drink, you laugh and tell him, "I'm the same. I don't sub unless I really connect with someone." He smirks over his empty glass, looking suave until he tries to take a drink and realizes he'd finished his drink already.  
  
You snort at him as he frowns a little in disappointment. Sans waves toward the bar and catches someones attention. He winces quietly, his expression unchanging,  "It's the cat, don't freak."  
  
You don't have time to throw your legs back under the table when Taa shows up. He freezes, his eyes lingering on your thighs as you quickly shift to hide your legs. "You hungry?" Sans asks you. You give a shrug before nodding.  
  
"I'd really appreciate a large order of fries, and a double order of our drinks. Ina will remember 'em." Taa does a double-take, glancing quickly back at you before he focuses on Sans. "Uh, uh, yeah, no problem. Be back in a jiff."  
  
"Don't drop 'em like you did last time!" Sans calls after him, leaning out of the booth.  
  
"Fuck you, Sans!"  
  
"Not in your wildest dreams..." Sans mutters under his breath. You snort and he looks back at you, wrinkles creasing between his sockets. "What's up with the cat?" He asks bluntly.  
  
Your stomach flips and you can feel a cold sweat break over your skin. "I-I'm afraid of cats." you admit with a whisper.  
  
"Ah," he says with a nod. "I'm not a fan of 'em either. Never been in a relationship longer than two weeks with a cat. They're pretty high-maintenance." He props his head up with his left hand, his right arm laying on the table. "I thought maybe he was like, a one-night-stand or somethin'."  
  
You shake your head and you're grateful he doesn't make fun of you for your fear. Even some of the monsters you'd admitted your fear to had brushed you off, telling you there wasn't anything to be afraid of. But you just couldn't shake the distrust you had for them.  
  
You can't help but jump with Taa returns, balancing a circular tray on his shoulder. He was so quiet, you couldn't hear him approach over the background noise of the bar. He slowly and carefully sets everything on the table. His paws tremble when he puts Sans' drinks in front of him. His tail whips back and forth, agitated.  
  
"J-just uh, call if you need anything else." he says before turning away, his green eyes still wander over you as he walks away. His pupils fully dilate, swallowing his irises completely. A shudder crawls up your spine and you take a deep pull from one of Sans' drinks.  
  
"Whoa, that's strong." You comment as you shake off the bitter burn of the whiskey. "What is that?"  
  
"Uh, I dunno. I just know it's got the highest alcohol percentage of all the other stuff."  
  
"What time does Grillby's actually close?" You ask him, remembering he said he always stays till closing and desperate for conversation to soothe your fear back down.  
  
"Four-thirty."  
  
Your eyes widen in surprise, taking a gulp of your drink. "I didn't know he had a license to stay open so late!"  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure they only gave it to him to keep us monsters off the streets at night."  
  
You nod, taking a few fries and gracelessly shoving them in your mouth. You moan softly at the savory, salty, fried goodness. "Fuck, food is always better when you're drinkin'." you say, mouth full of fries as you reach for more.  
  
"But that's total b.s., like, monsters are just like people. Actually, I've met more monsters that were nice than I've met humans who were nice." You wave your fries dramatically in the air for emphasis.  
  
Sans stares blankly at you as you start to take a bite. "What?" you ask, blinking hard at him. He was definitely...blurrier than he was earlier. Your eyes finally focus and you see the deep blush on his face. His pupils have vanished. Even though his hands are just bone, you can tell he's tightly clenched the fist on the table and the hand against his face is pressing hard into his cheek.  
  
"I have...the overwhelming urge..." he pauses for a long moment, closing his eyes, when they open again his pupils have returned and his tongue runs along the edges of his sharp teeth. He shakes his head, smiling as he recovers and finishes one of his drinks in several large gulps.  
  
You stare at him in surprise, fries still hanging in the air in front of your mouth. "The overwhelming urge, to what?"  
  
He closes his eyes again, looking away as he clears his throat. When he looks back at you, your heart flutters wildly in your chest. The hungry look on his face promised positively sinful things. You find yourself closing your eyes, too, as a series of short scenes play out in your head. It's so real you have to bite your lips to control yourself.  
  
The feel of hands gripping your wrists tight, pressing your arms into the bed. An unbelievable pleasure surging through your veins. Obscene sounds echo quietly in your ears.  
  
When you open your eyes, you see he's moved closer to you, probably unconsciously. He leans on his right hand toward you, his pupils dancing over your face. You reach a shaking hand for your drink and finish it off.  
  
"S-so, uh, wh-what songs are you guys working on?" You scramble for a coherent sentence, and end up stuttering to stall so blood could start flowing in your brain again.  
  
He shrugs, sliding his butt to reach his hand. You can feel the chill coming from his body. You were surprised, even though you'd yet to meet a monster that didn't run cold. He eats a few fries before he answers. "Hirsch wants to do some heavier metal stuff, but I just can't scream for hours."  
  
"Oh, I bet you can..." you mutter to your drink as you down a quarter of your second glass. You freeze when you feel him shudder beside you. "A-a-and T-Ted wants to-to uh, do some mor-more pop songs. She's a r-real fan of Adele. Woman can sing her ass off, but her songs just murder my throat."  
  
You notice your unrelenting impatience must have faded, because even with all the signals he was sending off, you find yourself wanting to sit and talk with him more than you want to get him in bed. You weren't going to lie, you really wanted hear what profane sounds you could force out of him, but you surprisingly weren't in a rush either.  
  
You grab another mouthful of fries, sad to see they were already half-empty. A few minutes pass in silence as you both continue to snack and drink.  
  
"I'm just gonna say this, okay?" You blink back at him expectantly, face resting hard against your palm. He suddenly loses his confidence and it takes him a few seconds to muster it again. "I have never wanted to get someone in my bed half as much as I want you right now."  
  
He leans closer as he speaks, his sockets sliding half-way shut as he smiles weakly at you. "I..." you're lost for words as you stare back at him.  
  
"Hey! You-?" You both jump, heads snapping to Ina who was beginning to blush. "Uh, s-sorry, I was just coming to see if you guys wanted a refill or...something."  
  
You nod drunkenly. "Could we get two of Sans' usual, please?" you ask, pointing at Sans' empty glasses.  
  
"You got it!" she replies, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment as she quickly leaves.  
  
Sans' arm slides across the table and he pulls himself even closer to you, his arm curving around you without touching. You look up at him with a smile. When he tilts his head and starts to kiss you, you put a finger to his teeth, somehow surprised and not surprised when you feel something soft press against your skin.  
  
He had invisible skin, that's right...  
  
His unseen lips are so soft. You curiously trace them, your own lips parting as you lean closer. His lids flutter closed and he leans into your hand, turning his skull so your palm cups his cheek. He sighs, a serene smile lighting up his face as he covers your hand with his. The touch is familiar, soothing.  
  
You let your hand trail slowly down neck and his breath hitches quietly as you slide your hand to his shoulder. Your hand slips under his jacket and slowly finds its way into his sleeve. He pulls his arm out and you curiously touch the bare skin of his forearm, chewing your lip as you enjoy the feel of cool muscle cording invisibly around his thick bones.  
  
"Ahem," Ina clears her throat quietly before she comes into view around the booth. She has four glasses and four cans of soda. "A double order, because you guys probably want some privacy." She smirks at you both before she deftly unties the cords holding the thick curtains back against the walls of the booth. "You're both here enough to know we have rooms for rent."  
  
Her smile widens and she winks before pulling the curtains shut.  
  
You laugh awkwardly, only a little embarrassed. The illusion of privacy has intensified the tension you feel between you. When you look back at Sans he seems to be struggling to keep his breathing even. You smile back at him as you slowly continue your curious inspection of his bare arm. His head rolls slightly, his eyes closing as you work your way back up, sliding your fingers under the baggy sleeve of his t-shirt.  
  
You find yourself intensely tempted to kiss the spot where his broad jaw met his neck. You pause, staring at the spot and licking your lips.  
  
You pull yourself back, needing more willpower than you expected, and sit in the corner of the booth, legs folded neatly beside your hip.  
  
He comes back to himself, shaking his head slightly to think clearer. "Jesus," he breathes, reaching for one of the glasses. He finishes one off and opens a soda. You reach for a glass and he hands you one. You take a deep breath and down the entire thing in four gulps, determined to keep up with him. Your free hand taps repeatedly on the table at the burn it ignites from your lips to your stomach. You slam the glass down and take the can he hands to you, washing the alcohol down quickly.  
  
You feel the effects immediately and can't help a bout of stupid giggles falling free. You sway a little as you lean back against the corner of the booth. You watch Sans intently as you slowly swing one leg onto the seat beside him. His eyes widen when your dress starts to ride up your hips, they dart up to your face as you give him your best smolder, bringing your other leg up to cross at your ankles.  
  
His hand hovers over your calf, glancing up to see if you want him to stop. You blink patiently back at him and he gently touches your skin. Little sparks of electricity sprawl away from his hand as he very, very slowly travels up your leg. Your breathing picks up and you clear your throat to keep from panting when his fingers slide under the hem of your dress.  
  
You let your head roll back with a sigh as he slides his hand to cup the side of your ass. His thumb strokes your thigh, gently circling closer to your crotch. You give up trying to keep your composure and moan quietly, hands digging into the velvet seat when his fingertips brush your opposite thigh. He was so close to your most sensitive parts.  
  
You nearly part your legs and pull him harshly against you in a deep kiss. Instead, you give another moan that makes him shiver and start to sit up fully. He tries and fails to hide the disappointed grunt as you tug his hand gently from your dress and swing your legs back under the table.  
  
He gingerly grips your chin as he breathes against your ear in his rumbling tone. "Are you being a tease on purpose?" His breath is hot against your skin and for a few seconds you forget your own name. The alcohol definitely wasn't helping with that.  
  
"Y-yup," you reply.  
  
Sans growls into your hair and you swear your eyes actually roll back into your head. "What's with playing hard-to-get, Kitten? If you're trying to drive me crazy, it's fuckin' workin'."  
  
Any other day, you would have hated the pet-name "kitten", but it sounded so right coming from him.  
  
"I-I suddenly have patience," you admit breathlessly.  
  
"Mm, doesn't sound like it," he replies as his hand slowly comes to rest against your collar bone, his fingers loosely wrapped around your neck.  
  
You squirm a little in your seat. "I-w-we...nnnghhaa..." your words dissolve when Sans licks the skin of your neck from your collar-bone to your ear. He carefully drags his sharp teeth against your skin and your feet start to fidget as you try to keep your voice down.  
  
"I-I..." you're breathing hard, you're disoriented from the alcohol and quickly getting love-drunk on Sans' deliberate seduction. "I-I-I do-don't think...I wa-want to russhh thiiis! AH! Oh, oh fuck..." Your hands grasp at him when his hand moves to cradle your head as he carefully pinches the sensitive spot at the crook of your neck with his sharp teeth. His tongue laps at your skin and you moan as quietly as you can manage.  
  
When he pulls away you sag against him and try to catch your breath. "I don't want to risk losing this spark we've got." he tells you.  
  
You laugh. It comes out brokenly as you push against his chest to look up at him. "I-I've never felt like this before. And you said you hadn't either. L-let's try waiting just a bit, let this build some more..."  
  
You aren't sure what you said, but you can feel the mood shift quickly. Sans' face has become carefully blank and he looks away from you. "I'm not...I'm not looking to date anybody. I don't want anythin' serious."  
  
"I-I didn't-!"  
  
He laughs dryly, reaching for his second full glass and draining it before slamming it on the table. "No worries, I'll uh, see you around, I guess?"  
  
"Wait!" you reach for him as he slides toward the end of the booth, sliding his arm back into his jacket. "Damn it, Sans! Sans, wait!" you struggle to get free from the booth, sweeping the curtains back as you walk quickly after him.  
  
He doesn't turn, making his way outside. You follow, stepping out into a surprisingly frigid night. You stare in shock at the softly falling snow muting most of the sound of the city. You shake yourself and see Sans standing a few feet away with his head tilted back to stare at the sky.  
  
"Sans!" You snap, getting his attention.  
  
"I wasn't saying we should date, or do anything serious. I just meant...it might be fun to tease each other for next week or two before we cave and go at it like rabbits."  
  
He scoffs, "Yeah, but I get to know you, I'm gonna want something more. I can just feel it."  
  
"Is that so bad?" you ask, happy for the alcohol flowing in your veins and keeping you warm in this cold night.  
  
He sighs, looking away from you. "I...just got out of a long-term relationship about two months ago. I'm still pretty fucked-up about it. I'm nowhere near ready for anything serious, or even remotely serious."  
  
Your heart aches for him. "How about this? We know we both like to hang out here, you find me if you change your mind. I'll keep my distance, alright?"  
  
After a long moment, he nods. "Okay, yeah, sure. Just don't hold your breath."  
  
You smile, "Not unless you make me."  
  
He chuckles at that and you turn on your heel to head back into the bar. You needed to close your tab and get a ride home. Your energy has been completely sapped and all you want to do now is curl into your warm bed and sleep this exciting and painful night away.


	2. The Blackout

Sans walks back into the bar after she leaves, realizing too late that he never got her name. He's grumbling when he shuffles to the bar and orders his usual, a glass filled to the brim with the strongest whiskey Grillby could legally sell. It's not as strong as the alcohol underground, but that was laced with magic.  
  
The crowd has thinned out and there's several empty bar stools. He slides onto one near the the kitchen and thanks the white-faced dog that hands him his drink.  
  
He sips the whiskey, before deciding he didn't have a single fuck left to give and chugs it. A bird at the other end of the bar is smoking two cigarettes at once and he stares at them a moment in confusion. But it also brings up the urge to smoke himself.  
  
He catches the attention of the dog behind the bar and buys a pack of cigarettes from the underground. From what he'd experienced, the only thing even close to the monster cigarettes above ground, were what the humans called "clove cigarettes". They tasted similar, and packed a bigger punch than the normal kind. But he still preferred what he was used to, as most people do.  
  
The dog walks away while Sans taps the pack upside down on the inside of his forearm. Satisfied, he opens the paper-thin aluminum box and lets one rest in his teeth while he pats down his pockets for a lighter.  
  
"Fuck." He'd forgotten his lighter somewhere. Damn, he liked that one.  
  
Just as he's about to flag down the dog again, a figure leans on the bar beside him. A fiery pale purple hand snaps its' fingers and a spark of violet fire ignites just above the fingertips. Grillby smiles smugly as he holds his hand out to Sans.  
  
"Need a light?" he asks with a slow blink.  
  
Sans chuckles and leans close enough to coax an ember to burn, locking eyes with Grillby who watches his every move. He leans back and sighs a cloud of smoke to curl up from his skull. Grillby sits on the empty stool beside him and the dog covering the bar puts two glasses and a full bottle of the undergrounds finest spirit, something lovingly nicknamed "Flame Spitter".   
  
Sans raises his eyebrows at Grillby. "That shit's illegal up here."  
  
Grillby scoffs, spinning open the lid and pouring two shots of dark red liquor in each glass. "It's only illegal if I sell it, right now, you're getting it for free."  
  
Sans takes a long pull of his cigarette, enjoying the rush of calm that fills his veins. Magic prickles pleasantly in his chest. The shredded bark from the trees outside Snowdin was what filled the cigarettes. The trees, surrounded by magic for centuries, had absorbed more than most plants. Some lucky, and probably eccentric monster had discovered that smoking the bark actually regenerated lost magic, or relaxed the ones with all their magic.  
  
They were just as addictive as nicotine though.  
  
"Aren't you generous tonight," Sans replies, blowing smoke toward the wall away from them.  
  
Grillby shrugs, taking a drink. "I saw you strike-out with the bombshell." he replies.  
  
Sans rolls his eyes. "And you're tryin' to make a move."  
  
"Maybe...I'm feeling lonely tonight. Or maybe I just haven't found a spark with anyone else."  
  
Sans studies him as he tries the _Flame Spitter_ , even expecting the punch it packed he always felt dizzy after the first sip.  
  
"So, what, you're after a pity fuck?"  
  
Grillby gives a dry laugh. "No tact, as always, Sans."  
  
Sans shrugs, taking another drink before taking another drag of his cigarette. "Sorry, just in a weird mood I guess." he weakly apologizes, looking away.  
  
"It has been a while, though." Grillby says slowly, holding the glass with his fingertips around the rim and swirling the crimson alcohol.  
  
"Mm," Sans grunts, not sure how he felt at the moment. Something nagged at him about the human he'd spent the evening with. He wasn't imagining the tension between them in the cramped booth. He pulls on the cigarette and lazily sighs the smoke from his chest. Why was he pulling back from Grillby? He had been his friend-with-benefits for the past few months. It had been a cathartic experience. They were good in bed together, it helped him get his mind off of...his ex. He didn't even like thinking her name.  
  
He finishes his drink in two gulps and looks at Grillby, his red pupils tracing the soft line of his jaw in the purple flames. Grillby seems a little embarrassed at the attention.  
  
 _Fuck it_. Sans thought before leaning close and kissing him. It earns him a surprised grunt from the slimmer man. Grillby rests his hand on the back of Sans' neck, pulling him closer as his warm tongue parted the skeletons lips. Sans slips a hand to the small of Grillby's back and leans into the kiss.  
  
He was so warm. Unlike any other monster he radiated a gentle heat, the swirling of his flames don't hurt unless he wants it to. To Sans, it felt like a magical pressure sparking against his skin as he carefully cups Grillby's delicate face through the flames. It always reminded him of running his hands through warm water, without the wetness.  
  
When the men pull back, Grillby's eyes are half-lidded and Sans feels... well, he doesn't feel much.  
  
A royal guard whistles loud at the two and Grillby glares back at her. She raises her beer with a suggestive wiggling of her eyebrows. Sans chuckles before returning to his cigarette, he was getting to the end of it.  
  
Grillby grabs the bottle and after a moment he stands. "You know where my room is," he says in a husky tone as he leans close. He hovers near Sans' neck, waiting until his breath quickens with anticipation. He brushes his flat lips against the skin above his collar bone and Sans sighs, unconsciously tilting his head and exposing more of his neck. Grillby trails slowly up his neck before planting a chaste kiss on his cheek.  
  
Sans comes out of it and half-turns to look up at the taller monster. Grillby smiles smugly, taking his glass from the bar in his free hand and walking through the heavy curtains that led to the play-rooms and employee rooms.  
  
He sits for a long moment, taking a final drag of his cigarette before grinding it out in an ashtray. He exhales smoke as he considers taking Grillby's offer. It had been a couple weeks since he got laid...  
  
His fingers tap rhythmically on the bar before he leaves a tip beside his empty glasses and calmly follows the flame monster through the thick velvet curtains.  
  
Why did he feel guilty about spending the night with him? In his mind he can see the human he'd just met crying quietly up at him. It's so clear he has trouble pushing it away. A sharp prickling sensation crawls through his skull and he pauses in the hall, holding a hand to his head.  
  
He blinks hard and the hall is suddenly over-saturated with color. Transparent forms slowly drift by and he grips his shirt over his suddenly shining soul. "No," he breathes. He sees a clearer but still see-through versions of himself and Grillby. He pins the taller man against a wall, messily kissing him as his hands tug on bar owners belt.  
  
Sans closes his eyes and shakes his head with a groan. "No, no, no, no. This can't be happening again." His arm reaches out for the wall at his left and he shakily supports himself against it, trying to control his breathing.  
  
 _Just go to Grillby. No way do I want to be alone with this shit tonight._   
  
He relaxes in inches and forces a false calm through him, wrapping himself in the warmth of the alcohol still rushing through him.  
  
When he feels like he won't fall over and the visions pass, he quickly makes his way to the stairs hidden in the back of the hall. A secret panel perfectly hides the door to the stairway. He pushes against the latch at the top of the panel and counts to ten.  
  
A soft 'clack' lets him know he's unlocked the door. He taps the meaty side of his fist against the wall at hip height and another latch releases. He steps back and the door swings open. He doesn't bother to see if anyone was watching as he slips inside and the door shuts quietly behind him.  
  
Sans quickly climbs the stairs that loop back toward the bar and lead to the second floor of the private living quarters. The sounds from the bar below are completely muffled up here, something Grillby made sure of.   
  
He passes a dozen doors before reaching the end of the wide hall and the door that opened to Grillby's apartment. It's cracked open, soft music pours out and he recognizes Frank Sinatra's _Willow Weep For Me_. Grillby had a soft spot for the old human crooner.  
  
Sans feels a more natural calm soothe his frayed nerves. He smiles weakly as he pushes open the door. Grillby stands in the small living room with his back to the door. He glances over his shoulder, taking a drink from a full glass before setting it on the small silver top of his personal bar next to the three-quarter full bottle from downstairs.  
  
The apartment has an open floor-plan. The living room is on the far left, a gray couch with matching chairs surrounds a black and white marble coffee table and large river-stone fireplace. A flat screen TV hangs above the wooden mantle. The small dining table separates the living room from the kitchen. Tall swiveling chairs are tucked against the chest-high breakfast bar. A large silver fridge takes up most of the right wall, a cabinet sits between it and the stove, also tucked into the corner.  
  
There are only two windows. One in the kitchen, and one in front of Grillby. Elegant lace curtains offer some privacy from the busy street below. Dark red black-out curtains with intricate designs are tied back, layering over the lace. Music plays from the speakers beneath the TV. An iPod sits in a bay station behind them.  
  
Sans shuts the door and locks it.  
  
Grillby smiles, turning his head before Sans can see it. He tugs at his tie, pulling it free from his neck and dropping it on the arm of the chair to his left. His black and gray, faux-fur lined coat goes next.   
  
In spite of everything, Sans' heart picks up speed as he watches him slowly strip. Though he can't see his front, he can tell by the bend of his elbows and shifting of his shoulders that he's unbuttoning his shirt. His arms fall to his sides and the shirt slides from his back to the floor.  
  
Sans stalks forward quietly, dropping his jacket on the way to him. Grillby stands still, magic flames floating from his almost bare shoulders. He's the only light in the dark apartment. He closes his eyes when Sans fingers carefully slip under the hem of his plain white tank top. He runs his hands up his stomach, touching as much of his warm skin as he can as he pulls the shirt up.  
  
Grillby raises his arms and Sans tosses the shirt to the floor. His fingertips trail down his arms and he feels the shiver run up the thinner mans spine. He gives a predatory smile as he kisses the crook of Grillby's neck, his hands dropping lower. Over his hips, to his belt.  
  
Grillby reaches back to hold Sans' skull as he begins to bite softly at his neck. He braces his other hand on the wall, knowing Sans was rarely this gentle for long and preparing himself. The belt is hastily unclasped, and a cool hand cups his painfully erect dick over his silk boxers. He manages to hold back the desperate moan he nearly let escape and grips Sans' skull tighter.  
  
Sans chuckles as he starts to gently tease him, just barely pressing against his cock as he dragged his hand up and down the slippery silk. Grillby lets his mouth fall open, his head rolls back to Sans' shoulder behind him and his breath slowly becomes ragged as the skeleton continued to control his rougher, callous side.  
  
Without warning he bites into the swell of muscle above his collar bone and Grillby cries out in pained surprise. Sans leans back before shoving him into the wall and he gasps, moaning soft and short. His hands pull away from his crotch and Grillby's fingers claw down the wall to make fists of frustration.  
  
Sans steps forward, pressing the length of his body into Grillby's and grinding his own rock-hard cock against his ass.  
  
Grillby gasps again and Sans covers his hands with his own, pinning them to wall. He kicks Grillby's feet further apart so he can reach his neck at this angle. Grillby offers no resistance and throws his head back when Sans' sharp teeth harshly drag down his sparking skin.  
  
"We goin' all night, or you gonna _burn out_ like last time?" Sans asks as he presses into him even harder, still humping his perfectly shaped ass.  
  
Grillby moans behind tightly closed lips with every small movement, his hips push back to meet Sans' every thrust. "I-I...I hav-en't had a f-free night since laaaast time...oh _fuck..."_ he tucks his head down, his forehead tilted into the wall. "Fuck! Sa-Sans, Sans please..."  
  
Sans smiles smugly, teeth biting into his lower lip as he watched the typically quiet and reserved monster begin to fall apart so quickly. "Please, what, Grill-baby?" he says with a sing-song tone.  
  
Grillby's hands fist again beneath Sans' grip and he groans against the wall, crying out when Sans gives a harsh thrust. The motion only makes his dick throb even harder as it's pressed firmly into the wall. "F-fuuuck me, Sans!"  
  
Sans grunts in appreciation of his begging. He steps back and Grillby struggles for a moment to catch his breath. "Turn around." Sans tells him gruffly.  
  
After a moment he manages to turn to face the skeleton. Sans' eyes linger on the mans' stomach and the scars that criss-cross his chest. He narrows his eyes lustfully and takes the other mans' face in his hands, pulling him into a fevered kiss. He knocks their hips together and they both moan, Grillby louder than Sans, as their most sensitive parts get acquainted through thin layers of clothes.  
  
Grillby grabs the skeletons' hips and holds him more securely against him as their tongues tangle together. It earns him a surprised, higher-pitched moan than usual and his body shivers in response.  
  
Sans pulls away from him and slowly kisses his jaw, down his neck, to his chest, when he reaches his stomach Grillby realizes what he was doing. His breath hitches as Sans licks his exposed hip, pushing him firmly to the wall when he sits on his knees. Grillby's head tilts back as Sans urges a deep violet hickey to form; his tongue caresses the warm skin under his navel, biting carefully as he slips lower.  
  
When Sans tugs at the silk boxers with his teeth, Grillby gives a low moan. Sans tilts his head back, smiling around the fabric to look up at the surprisingly expressive face surrounded by flames. His mouth hangs open, a deep purple blush burns against his cheeks. His glasses are slightly skewed as he breathes hard down at him. A pathetic desperation shines in his white eyes and Sans winks at him.  
  
Grillby's eyes widen and his head snaps back with a sharp gasp when Sans wraps his tongue around the head of his plum-colored dick. His hands grip the back of his skull and he shudders when Sans begins to bob. He hums around his cock when Grillby moans and he grips his ass, pulling him flush with his face.  
  
"AH! Oh...ooh _shiiit..."_  
  
 _Sans_ pulls back, circling his fingers around the bottom his dick and letting his mouth focus on the sensitive head. Grillby lifts a hand to cover his mouth as he begins to grow louder. Sans brings him to the brink before slowing his pace and eventually pulling away completely. Grillby had the habit of falling into a dead sleep after he finished, and Sans was in the mood for a long night.  
  
Grillby sags, raising his hand to his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. "Sorry, my knees are gonna explode." Grillby laughs dryly at him, slowly looking through his fingers down at him.   
  
"Bedroom. Now." Grillby demands, still smiling.  
  
Sans hauls himself up and grunts in surprise when Grillby snatches his face and kisses him passionately, pushing him backwards to his bedroom behind the fireplace. Something like guilt begins to bloom in his chest but he shoves it back down. It didn't make sense to feel guilty about having some fun, not like he was in a relationship with anyone.  
  
And damn it, he needed something like this to ground him after the freakish vision in the hallway.  
  
Sans tries to match the other mans' steps, but Grillby is too eager and he knocks him off his feet. They fall over the threshold of the bedroom and the kiss breaks apart as they land in a tangled heap on the thick carpet.  
  
Sans blinks at Grillby before bursting out laughing. Grillby props himself on Sans' chest with his elbows and chuckles. Sans' laughter is interrupted by a sudden shiver as warm hands slide under his shirt and over his chest. He lets his head fall back on the carpet, closing his eyes as Grillby impatiently tugs the front of his pants down.  
  
Sans sighs when that hot tongue slides over his dick and easily hilts in Grillby's mouth. He moans, biting his lips to contain it as Grillby strokes his shaft with his surprisingly agile tongue. He loses himself as he's worked higher, his left hand grips the back of the other mans' head and his hips start to twitch.  
  
At the last possible second Grillby sits up with wet 'pop' as he pulls his mouth from Sans' dick. Sans quietly growls at his cocky smirk. Grillby shrugs, "Thought I'd return the favor." he says as he stands and steps over the stocky skeleton, walking toward the bed.  
  
Sans tilts his head backwards to watch the other man very sensually slip out of his remaining clothes. He admires the view when he bends at the waist to pull back the bed sheets. Gracefully, he rolls onto the mattress and lays propped up on his back, still smiling back at Sans.  
  
"Going to leave me all _cold_ over here?" Grillby asks, raising his eyebrows.  
  
With a laugh and a small groan, Sans gets to his feet, stepping out of his shoes as he walks toward the bed. He realizes there's no way he can take off his socks as sexily as Grillby can, so he just rips them off, making the other man chuckle. Sans stands back upright and tugs his shirt over his head, gripping it between his shoulder blades. With a perfected smolder he slips his thumbs into his boxers and slowly works them down his legs, letting them drop when they hit his thighs.  
  
Grillby is blushing again, his cock throbbing against his stomach as Sans crawls into bed on top of him. He easily spreads his warm thighs and slides closer to Grillby; his legs bend and his knees rest against the outside of Sans' hips. He hovers over him, pausing to take in his growing anticipation, his slow building need. Impatiently, Grillby grabs his skull and jerks him to his lips. Sans chuckles into the kiss, forcing his head into the pillow as he lowered his body against Grillby's.  
  
Sans smiles when hot hands frantically grasp at his back and his neck. His favorite thing about being the more dominant one was seeing someone pushed over the edge from horny to desperate. Grillby moans into his mouth, his hands pulling at him harder as Sans shifts his hips. When their dicks start to slide away from each other under the pressure of Sans' weight, he tucks a hand against his crotch and grips both of them before lazily stroking up and down.  
  
Grillby moans again, freezing beneath Sans as he continues to work his hand around their cocks. Sans smirks when the other man pulls away from the kiss, breathing hard as he pressed himself harder against the bed, his hips pushing up against the skeleton. His white eyes squeeze shut as he the movement begins to offer some release.  
  
Sans sits up and pumps his hand faster, making the monster beneath him fling his arms over his head to grip the edge of the mattress as he throws his head back with a long moan. He has to close his sockets for a moment to collect himself after that _intoxicating_ sound.  
  
Another moan echoes in his brain. This one feminine and absolutely gorgeous. His dick twitches as he slowly licks his lips. _A loud 'slap!' followed by a broken moan in the same woman's voice..._ Sans groans, his grip tightening.  
  
 _"Shut up and fuck me already."_ He can't push the sounds from his mind. He doesn't want to. They struck something deep within his recollection, something he was _ravenous_ for. His need for it was more intense than anything he'd ever felt. _"Oh...oh fuck...SS-SAAANSS!"_ She brokenly cries in his head.  
  
Sans suddenly lurches forward with a shuddering moan, his free hand catching him on the bed before he collapsed on top of Grillby. His chest heaves, his mouth hanging open as the arm supporting him begins to tremble.  
  
Grillby pants hard as he stares back up at the rare look of desperation on his face. A thrill runs through him and he smiles up at the skeleton. He shoves against Sans' shoulder and pushes him to his back on the bed. He relishes the look of shock in his sockets when he straddles his lap. Now near the edge of the bed, Grillby reaches for the bottle of lube on his nightstand.  
  
Sans watches his movements, slightly dazed from the sudden flip and the sounds that had echoed so clearly in his brain. Grillby drips cold lube down Sans' dick before coating it completely with a few strokes of his hand. Sans hisses with pleasure, his hands reaching for Grillby's thighs.   
  
"Oooh, that's a face I've never seen on you before..." Grillby sings in a gravelly tone. Sans just pants harder, his breath hitching when Grillby's hand slides behind him to lube his ass. He tosses the bottle to the far side of the bed and lifts his hips up and forward. Sans bites back the urge to whine as the flame monster carefully, slowly slides his cherry-colored cock between his cheeks. He shivers, closing his sockets and digging his fingers into the fire-coated thighs that straddled him.  
  
Grillby tilts his head, savoring the skeleton's heavy breaths, his quiet moans, the feel of his grip tightening with a growing urgency.   
  
Behind Sans' closed eyes he sees the human straddling his hips, feels his hands bound over his head, his ankles cuffed. _She eyes him with a preadatory gleam, very slowly lowering herself onto him. A frayed flogger rests in her hands, she twists the tendrils and slaps his chest hard enough to make him scream..._  
  
His eyes open and he feels the full effect of the alcohol, the visions, and the sex all at once. "W-wait a sec..." he whispers as Grillby starts to press him into his ass.  
  
Grillby stops, shocked and loving this new side of Sans. He grins cockily down at the skeleton, waiting for an inevitable request. He only asked to stop to change positions, but his voice sounded different this time.  
  
A deep crimson blush paints across his stark white cheekbones as he glances away. He mumbles something and Grillby leans closer to him, "I didn't hear you, love." Sans' blush deepens and he covers his face with both hands, growling quietly in frustration. "I said..." he starts, his voice lowers to a whisper as he continues. "I said...do you mind if I'm submissive this time?"  
  
Grillby didn't think he could possibly be more shocked, but he was wrong. He gasps, his own face burning at the question. A chill runs down his spine as he considers the possibilities. He'd never topped Sans, not that he minded, it was just what they both preferred. But imagining him tied down and losing himself over him, maybe even begging for him...  
  
Sans drops his hands to the bed in assumed defeat. "Look, if you don't wanna, that's-!" Grillby interrupts him with a sudden, fierce bite under his jaw. "AAHhhh...mnnnghh..." Sans moans, his hands hold him securely against his skin. His muscles tense and he moans again when Grillby starts to dig his blunt teeth into him. "Ah! Hhhaarderrr...AHH, _oohh_ fuuuck..."  
  
Sans' pupils roll back, his hands clenching tightly against the man above him. Another moan escapes through his clenched teeth as Grillby sinks his teeth through his skin. "SHIIIT! _Yesss!"_ Grillby shivers again at the passionate cry, licking the candy-sweet blood from his neck. Sans' muscles go slack, his arms fall to the bed.  
  
"Hmm," Grillby hums smugly at him struggling to stop quietly moaning with each sharp exhale. "Want me to tie you down?"  
  
His only reply is a choked sound as Sans' clenches his eyes shut and shudders.  
  
He takes it as a "yes" and stands, reaching for the restraints that were secured under the mattress. "Scoot to the middle of the bed." Grillby tells him. It takes a few seconds, but Sans eventually moves sideways with a groan. "Good boy," he coos, fishing the leather cuffs from under the headboard. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."  
  
Sans shudders again, his breath sounding strangled. Grillby chuckles darkly to himself as he secures the skeletons stocky limbs with the fur-lined leather cuffs. Grillby looks up to his face and smiles again. "What's your safe-word? You've never told me."  
  
Sans licks his lips, "Paisleys." he replies, finally opening his eyes as Grillby crawls back on the bed between his outstretched legs. "Interesting choice," Grillby says with an amused frown.  
  
Sans manages a shrug. "Supposed to be somethin' you wouldn't say during sex."  
  
Grillby laughs shortly, his eyes scrunching shut for a moment. "Yeah, it's just strange to hear you say such a...floral word."  
  
Sans rolls his pupils.  
  
"Mm, I am _really_ appreciating this view." Grillby drags his hands from Sans' hips down to his knees with a lecherous leer. He drinks in the pathetic look on his face, his sockets furrowed with need, his mouth hanging open... "It's been a few years since I topped though, so be sure to tell me if I get too carried away."  
  
Sans nods slowly and Grillby's soul flutters at his lack of witty comeback. _Holy shit, he's really submitting with no resistance._ He thinks, pausing again.  
  
"You, uh, just gonna stare?" Sans asks after a long quiet moment passes, quirking one of his sockets. The rest of his face is passive. Grillby shakes himself back to reality, reaching for the bottle of lube. The skeletal hands clench, his breath coming faster as he watches the other man pour lube over his throbbing erection agonizingly slow. Again, he bites back the urge to whine, clearing his throat loudly and pushing the back of his skull into the mattress.  
  
"Aw, you're so needy. Why hide it? Y-you've subbed before, right?"  
  
"Ye-yeah," Sans' voice cracks.  
  
"And been the uh, oh what do the humans call it..."  
  
"The bottom? Yeah."  
  
"Oooh, I wonder who had that privilege."  
  
Sans clears his throat again. "Well, if you _have_ to know, my boyfriend in college. Senior year."  
  
Wow. Grillby was learning all sorts of things about Sans tonight. "So...only what, four years ago?"  
  
"Six." Sans corrects with a short smile. He's started to recover and weakly shakes his wrists in the cuffs. "So uh, we doin' this or what? 'cause I'm getting pretty aaaAHH!" Grillby grins with satisfaction as he makes Sans cry out with each harsh pump of his hand around his dick.  
  
"Th-that's better, just let it out, lovely." Grillby tells him, sliding the head of his cock between his cheeks. Sans gasps sharply, his face blank as the other monster slowly sinks himself into him. He releases a trembling sigh when he's fully hilted. The warmth inside him made him want to squirm, but he resisted, clenching his teeth with a long groan as Grillby's hand still stroked him.  
  
"I'm only going to do this if you actually let go, Sans." he teases, pulling his hand away and gently rolling his hips. He wasn't sure how long it'd been since Sans' last time like this, and he wanted to warm him up first.  
  
"Mmmnnngh...why-why's it matter?"  
  
"Just let me see you come undone. Please?"  
  
"Ah! Fuck! A-alright, just don't...make fun of me later." He'd tried to make it come out as a joke, but it came out depressing instead.  
  
Grillby leans over him, kissing him gently. "I got you, love. Just trust me." Before Sans had a chance to answer he kissed him again, rough as he could. Sans moaned into his mouth. It grew louder as Grillby gave a few experimental thrusts. He could feel Sans' arms shake as he instinctively tried to grab at him.  
  
Grillby slides a hot hand around Sans' fragile neck and forces his tongue deeper into the skeletons mouth, squeezing cautiously. "Mmmmmphhhh....mmm!" Grillby pulls back to let him speak.  
  
"Mmmore, more, please. Jus' fuckin' _wreck_ me."  
  
"Ooh, you got it sweetheart." Grillby purrs, picking up the pace of his rolling hips. Sans' skull slowly rolled back to the bed, tilting his chin in the air. Truthfully, he had only been the receiver once. His merman boyfriend had been perfect for him in bed...eh, water. They just couldn't make it work after college.  
  
But tonight, with his mind wandering so vividly, he could fully enjoy both the sensations from Grillby and the images from his head. As passion and intensity built, the lines between reality and his visions blurred. Grillby would viciously slap his skin, but it matched the crack of a riding crop in his head. The hot hand around his cock was the human taking all of him in her mouth, her hands fiddling with a vibrator in his ass.  
  
Sans' body trembled, ached in the most incredible ways, sounds he didn't know he could make were pouring from him.  
  
"Nnnnggh! Sa-Sans, oh...fucking shit! You're so incred-incredible!"  
  
Grillby's loud voice overlapped the husky tone of the woman and Sans could feel himself slipping over the edge. He tried to warn Grillby but all that came out was a strangled scream as he climaxed. His body arched before curling as far forward as the restraints allowed.  
  
Grillby's eyes sparked, he cradled Sans' face with his free hand, his other hand still slowly stroking him as his hips suddenly jerked faster. Sans squirmed beneath him, moaning through his clenched teeth when Grillby braced himself on the bed with both hands and tucked his chin to his chest with tightly closed eyes.  
  
"Ah-haa! Mmm, fff-ah! Oh...fuck!" Grillby panted, tensing just before yelling wordlessly with his head thrown back as he finally let himself cum.  
  
Sans breathes raggedly under him, moaning softly with each harsh thrust as Grillby rides him to his end. He pulls out with a tired grunt, arms trembling just before he collapses on the skeleton.  
  
Sans lets out a loud, "Oof! He-hey, don't pass-out yet, I'm still tied up."  
  
Grillby groans pathetically before shoving himself upright and slowly stands. His hands shake as he unlatches the four cuffs pinning Sans to the bed. Immediately after, he slumps to the bed with another groan.  
  
Sans chuckles at him as he rubs the chafed skin of his wrists. Grillby is snoring quietly face-down as Sans makes his way to the attached bathroom. He stops after flicking on the light and seeing his reflection in the mirror. He can see the red bruises ringing his neck, a few bite-marks he doesn't remember, the insides of his thighs and outsides of his cheeks were severely welted. There was a still glowing hand-print on the left side of his face. He barely remembers begging for Grillby to slap him, then furiously demanding he do it again, harder. A few places bleed very lightly and he frowns at himself. He can't remember a time before this where he was so disconnected from sex.  
  
Well, he can, but he actively ignores those memories instantly out of habit.  
  
He can't push away the sting in his soul he always felt after brushing with those needling thoughts, so he turns and steps into the shower. Physically and mentally cleansing himself. He quickly dries off and pauses on his way into the living room.  
  
Grillby is out cold, his legs hang from the bed just below his hips, his turned face snores loudly as drool pools beneath his open mouth. Sans shakes his head with a smirk and uses a gentle burst of magic to shift him onto the bed proper, and with a wave of his hand covers the man with the blankets. Grillby grunts softly in his sleep, pulling his pillow close. Sans gives a short laugh, "Heh, always one-and-done, aren'tcha?" he mumbles as he continues to the living room.  
  
He snaps his fingers and the piled clothes fold themselves on the far armchair near the window, he scoops his jacket from the floor and tosses it over the back of the couch. Sinatra still plays softly in the background as he takes Grillby's forgotten drink and downs it one gulp.  
  
" _...Try to think that loves not around, Still it's uncomfortably near, My poor old heart ain't gaining any ground, Because my angel eyes ain't here.._."  
  
Sans stands perfectly still beside the small silver-topped bar, holding the empty glass at his waist as he listens somberly to the rest of the song. He pours himself another drink as the song fades and the next one on the playlist begins.  
  
He's starkly reminded of things he's never experienced as the slower song, _One for my baby, one for the road_ fills the otherwise quiet and cold apartment. He can somehow feel the ambiance of a nearly-empty bar in the 20's. He see himself sitting, no, leaning against the bar-top as a soft-blue version of Grillby pours him two straight drinks. He has a scar that cuts through the barely flickering blue flames over his right eye, it's permanently closed. His other self puts the hat resting on the bar beside him on his skull and angles it down to cover his face from the other Grillby.  
  
The song ends and he glances at the iPod to shut it off. He didn't feel like anymore gentle, soft and melancholy music.  
  
He didn't really feel like doing much of anything, except maybe drinking. So he quickly drains another full glass of _Fire Spitter_ and waits a moment for it to seep into his veins. The complicated emotions he didn't want to deal with were still writhing unpleasantly close to his awareness. He skips the glass and just drinks straight from the bottle, he finishes it off before he even feels the sting of the alcohol.  
  
He sets the bottle back down before the full-effect hits him.  
  
His vision blurs, doubling as he sways slightly. A warmth fills his chest before coating his soul in a protective numbness and he smiles, his body relaxing. He stumbles back to the bedroom and carelessly falls onto the bed, not bothering to cover himself as sleep quickly takes him under.


	3. Cynical Skin

Sans groans awake, rolling to his back. Pleasant pains and aches tug at his muscles and skin from the movement. He does wince when his ass twinges uncomfortably as he sits up. He can smell meat cooking in the next room.  
  
His eyes close with a smile and he sighs contently. One thing that he never failed to love about the human world was the abundant meat. After so many generations underground surrounded by high concentrations of magic, all the domestic livestock had become sentient on the same level as humans and monsters.  
  
Very rarely an animal would make it past the fall in the ruins or through the horror in the cave exit and wander into ravenous monsters. Once or twice a herd of deer had made it into the underground. There was a lottery held to divvy up the meat. But the majority of the time, everyone who ate meat had to make due with sub-par replacements.  
  
Plus, it wasn't like monsters could be eaten. They would turn to ash before anything could be cooked. There had been a few times in his life that he'd considered it, and it wasn't something he was proud of. But when your baby brother is slowly starving to death, you'd do just about anything to put food on the table.  
  
The smoky smell of bacon sizzling makes his mouth water and he's thankful for the sharp pull away from his wandering thoughts. He pulls on his clothes from the floor and curiously takes a peek at himself in the bathroom mirror. He tilts his neck to check the bruises he'd seen forming last night. A thick band of red circles his neck and he smirks at his reflection. His left eye is slightly swollen just on top of his cheekbone. A reddish-purple bruise clouds over his white skull under his socket.  
  
Jeeze, Grillby had _really_ gotten worked-up last night. Though he far from regretted it...  
  
He stands on the threshold of the bedroom door and leans against the door frame, watching the half-dressed Grillby quietly shuffle around the small kitchen. His head tilts as Grillby pulls milk from the fridge, smiling at his heart-patterned boxers. He hums quietly to himself as he starts cracking eggs into a large metal bowl, adding milk straight from the jug.  
  
Sans lightly pushes away from the door frame and walks quietly into the kitchen. Grillby still hums as he adds salt, pepper, parsley, and diced green onions to the bowl. Sans steps behind him and slips his hands to Grillby's hips.  
  
Sparks dance as his flames flare suddenly in surprise. Grillby sighs when Sans tucks the side of his face between his shoulder blades. His warm hands cover the skeletons on his hips and he relaxes against him with a soft smile.  
  
"How'd you sleep?"  
  
Sans shrugs, closing his eyes as he nuzzles against the other mans warm back. "You?" he asks instead, glancing up at the back of his head.  
  
Grillby turns in Sans' loose grip, the smile on his face quickly dying and his eyes widening in worry. He takes Sans' face in his hands, holding him firm when he tries to turn away. "Oh, darling, I didn't mean to..."  
  
Something twinges painfully in Sans' chest and he shrugs again, not looking up at him. "You were just doin' what I asked." He finally replies with a lopsided smile.  
  
Grillby opens his mouth to speak, his thumb lightly caressing the swelling under his left socket. Sans pulls away and Grillby doesn't stop him. "C'mon, it's not that bad." Grillby awkwardly grips his left bicep with his right hand.  
  
"And don't try to make a big deal out of it, okay? I...I had fun. Don't feel bad about it." Grillby slowly nods, letting go of his arm. When he turns back to frantically pull the bacon out of the pan before it burns, Sans murmurs with a wry laugh, "I've certainly been treated worse..."  
  
Grillby closes his eyes for a moment, bacon be damned. "Why else would I be upset about it, Sans?" he breathes, bracing himself for the emotional explosion his words were about to cause.  
  
_"Fuck you."_ Sans growls.  
  
Grillby turns before he can run off. "Sans... _Sans!_ " he calls as the skeleton snatches his jacket and stalks to the bedroom to get his shoes. Grillby turns off the stove and jogs after him. He stands in his way, but doesn't touch him, knowing that would only make things worse. So much worse.  
  
Sans glares up at him, one hand fisted around the hood of his jacket, the other gripping his sneakers by their shoe-strings. A red haze hangs in his left eye, his right socket is completely black. He bares his sharp teeth up at him with a twitching upper lip.  
  
"I just-I just hate having to walk on eggshells when we talk. Blowing up like this anytime someone mentio-!"  
  
"Stop. Talking."  
  
Grillby closes his eyes with a barely audible growl. "No. It's high fucking time you dealt with this!"  
  
"Ya see, that's the thing though, it's _my_ fuckin' buisness, not yours. So _I_ don't have to do shit!" Sans shoves past him and Grillby throws his hands in the air, still following him. He slams the door shut with palm and is ready for the deathly glare that meets him.  
  
"I'm one of the two people who know about _it._ I know you refuse to talk to your brother about it, and you know you can trust me." Grillby holds his free hand over his chest, hoping, not for the first time, that he'd just put down the damn mask.  
  
Sans closes his eyes for a long moment and Grillby can feel the anger roll off him in waves. "So, what, you want to _fix_ me? Is that it?" He asks him through narrow eyes. His right pupil has returned.  
  
Grillby sighs. "I...worry about you." he finally answers, not daring to tell him the truth.  
  
Sans shakes his head, jerking harshly on the door knob when Grillby stopped leaning against the door. He stops a second before he lets go of the knob. "I used to trust you. I get enough shit from Paps, I don't need it from you, too."  
  
"You can't keep cutting people out of your life just because they care!" Grillby yells, catching the door before it slams.  
  
"WATCH ME!" Sans screams back without turning his head.  
  
Once he's back in the bar, he shoves his feet into his shoes and jerks his jacket on, already fishing for his cigarettes. He rips the pack out of a pocket and looks to the bar where a few performers were eating breakfast, and a fill-in bartender was drying a tub full of glasses.  
  
They all stare at him without moving as he puts a brown cigarette in his teeth. "Got any lighters back there?" he asks with a jerk of his chin.  
  
The rabbit bartender sets down his glass and reaches under the bar as Sans walks over. "We got matches." he replies, handing over two matchbooks.  
  
"Good enough. Thanks, kid." He curls his hand around his face as he flicks one of the matches with his thumb to light it, quickly shaking it out as he pulled smoke into his lungs. "Not polite to stare," he says as he walks to the front door. The other two rabbits and slim dog at the bar duck their heads, focusing on their food as Grillby comes running out of the curtained hallway.  
  
Sans pushes through the first doors before Grillby catches up with him, breathing hard as he grabs the infuriating skeleton by the shoulders and pins him to the wall of the cramped entrance. Sans stares up at him, his shirt and pants unbuttoned. He glances down, the always well-dressed man is wearing house-shoes.  
  
"Sans, for fuck's sake, let someone help you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Stop being a bitch about it, you're letting this control you!" Grillby shoves against his shoulders again when Sans starts to move. "Why's it fuckin' matter?!"  
  
"Because you're getting worse! Monsters _die_ like this!"  
  
Sans looks away, cigarette still hanging from his teeth. He looks back up at Grillby and pushes two fingers against his bare collar bone. He shoves him back and steps away from the wall. "I. Don't. Care." He pushes against his chest with finality and turns to walk out the front doors.  
  
Grillby stares at the heavy wooden door as it slams shut. He shuts his eyes and runs a hand over his face, then up through the weakly flickering flames on his head. He takes a deep breath and composes himself before walking back into the bar. His employees actively avoid looking at him as he strides forward to the hanging curtains with a confidence he completely lacked.  
  
"No one heard anything, got it? Good." he says loudly as he makes his way up to his apartment, steam hissing around his solid white eyes.  
  
*  
  
Sans finds himself standing outside the abandoned town of Snowdin. He closes his sockets as he tilts his head back to the "sky" above. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and falls backwards into the snow, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke as he sighs.  
  
He opens his sockets and sees an olive-skinned, neutral-faced child looking down at him. Well, their eyes were closed, but he still knew they could see him. Somehow. Their head is tilted to the right, hands clasped behind their back. The thick red and black striped sweater has caught many delicate snowflakes.  
  
"How long you been here?" Sans asks, holding his cigarette over his stomach as he looks up at them.  
  
*An hour, maybe more.  
  
They reply with a small shrug, not bothering to move their mouth with their words. They knew Sans too well to even put in the effort.  
  
"Haven't seen you in a while."  
  
They shrug again, standing upright. Sans copies them, slowing standing with a groan. "Why're you all the way out here? Shouldn't you be at the castle?"  
  
*Knew you'd be back here eventually.  
  
Sans quirks a socket as he pulls on his cigarette again. "So you've just been...coming here every day?"  
  
They nod.  
  
"That's fuckin' creepy."  
  
They give a short smile. _*You've done the same._  
  
He frowns in agreement, blowing smoke away from them.  
  
*The timeline's different. Something changed. We could feel it long before the barrier broke. Have you felt it?  
  
Sans thinks for a long moment, still smoking intently. "Uh, I dunno? I haven't been pushing it since, you know, with your mom... I'm still getting flashes of shit, but I figured that was something I'm just stuck with."  
  
*Yes, it probably is. But...have any of the 'flashes' been putting events together? Have you deviated from what you've seen?  
  
Sans frowns at them, this time in confusion. He finishes his cigarette and immediately lights another. His face goes slack as he remembers seeing another version of himself and Grillby in the hallway of the bar.  
  
*You have, I see...  
  
"What's goin' on in that head of yours?" Sans asks suspiciously.  
  
Their red eyes open and a shiver crawls down his spine as their skin loses color, but gains a soft blush against their cheeks. They look back at Sans with an unfamiliar confusion hanging from that paler face. Chara was usually the one who knew exactly what was going on.  
  
*You don't deviate so quickly. You'll _very rarely_ deviate when we come underground, and only try to change events after a year or more of being above-ground.  
  
They tap their fingertips, pink from the cold, thoughtfully against their lips as their eyes go distant.  
  
"You said you weren't going to reset anymore." Sans reminds them. This conversation was just making him more and more uneasy.  
  
They nod, waving a hand dismissively. _*Yes, yes, we're keeping that promise. I'm just wondering what caused the..._ Their eyes light up suddenly.  
  
"What? Chara, don't hide shit!"  
  
They smile and for once it doesn't give Sans the creeps. They turn to him with an astonishingly warm expression, eyes bright with what looks like awe. He can't tell who's looking back at him.  
  
They shrug. _*If I tell you, it'll ruin the surprise. And just this once, it'll be a surprise you want to be a secret._

*

You open your eyes and immediately regret it. The light stabs into your brain and you wince as you shut your eyes tightly.  
  
Blindly you reach for your phone and pull the cover over your head. Without thinking you quickly type in a phone number and start to write out a text message before you realize you'd never seen that number before. You squint suspiciously at your screen, you'd typed out:  
  
_*What's up, big bones?_  
  
You frown at your phone, for the moment forgetting the hangover that was pulsing painfully in your head. After you delete the message, you lay back on the bed and wonder where you'd pulled that phone number from.  
  
A sharp pain through your skull comes before an answer does.  
  
You roll into a tight ball, tugging the blanket around you into a cocoon. A blush begins to burn beneath your skin as the headache slowly fades. Closing your eyes with a smile, you play through last night with Sans in the bar. Your toes curl as your legs shift and slide against the satin sheets.  
  
A scene flashing behind your eyes steals the air from your lungs.  
  
_You're under Sans. A hungry leer in his sockets sends a shiver down your spine. A thin red haze pools around his eyes, floating upward. His hands pin you down and he slams his cock into you. The sudden pleasure makes your head snap back against the pillow with a ragged moan..._  
  
You're breathing hard when the intensely realistic vision fades. Your hands have fisted around the blankets. Your eyes flutter as that same strong tug behind your navel from last night returns. It was such a rare thing for you to be turned on that strongly, but _damn_ did it feel good.  
  
The sounds of uninhibited passion roll through your mind. Somehow you recognize Sans' voice, clearly groaning in ecstasy before crying out. You whimper, biting your lips as you wish your brain could have imagined what face he was making during that.  
  
You have your wish granted.  
  
The sight is somehow staticy around the edges, but it's so perfect you quickly ignore it. God, he looked so fucking hot...  
  
Without noticing, your hands have slipped between your legs. Your eyes roll as several more snippets play out. Sans seductively licking his sharp teeth while smirking down at you, his bare chest sends chills through your body. _You're on top of him, his arms bound over his head as he pants roughly, his mouth hanging open as you work your hips. You hear him begging for release, his voice cracking with desperation... He's pinning you down, fucking you hard enough that you can't stop the needy, pathetic sounds erupting from you._  
  
_"C'mon, scream for me..."_  
  
Your back arches when you slide your fingers into yourself, your other hand circling your clit. A scream echoes in your bedroom as you hit your climax at a high peak. You moan between gasps for air as your muscles tremble, riding the orgasm until it faded completely.  
  
You let your hands rest against your hips as you sigh contentedly. You can't remember the last time you got yourself off with so much...satisfaction.  
  
A shiver runs down your spine and you whimper again, not like there was anyone to judge your embarrassing sounds. At this moment, you'd give just about anything to redo last night so you could've woken up next to him. You could have had a fantastic night filled with all the imagined sounds and images that just flashed through your mind.  
  
You sigh again, feeling much less content than earlier.  
  
You pull the blankets down from your face and breathe in the cooler air outside of your sheets. Guilt begins to creep up on you. Had you really just gotten off by thinking about sex with someone who was basically a stranger?  
  
You grimace. That was a little creepy. It feels like you've tainted yourself or violated Sans' privacy somehow. You frown and tell yourself it was normal, how many people had done the same thing to you?  
  
You frown harder, realizing that was a terrible train of thought to follow. You just wouldn't do it again. Yeah, that would make it better. With a wide yawn you roll to a comfortable position and fall asleep.  
  
*  
  
You wake and eventually move to the living room, dressing in your favorite pj's and robe after a long, hot shower. You lazily watch TV, eat room service and take a few phone calls from your lawyer and board members.  
  
The sun slowly sets behind the city skyline and you lay stretched across the couch. Your favorite program fills the empty silence in your penthouse as you stare out the floor to ceiling windows that make the entirety of your outside-facing living room wall. You sigh.  
  
The past few days had gone by so slowly. And now the last hours leading up to tonight were taking even longer.  
  
You were going to Grillby's tonight to watch Sans sing. You'd been avoiding the place to give him a chance to cool off after your first encounter. You chew on your lip as you try to convince yourself to be patient, it wasn't much longer anyway... And you fail.  
  
You leap from the couch and rush to your closet, smiling as you search through your favorite clothes. After a while you decide on something more casual than last time. Black short-shorts that sat snugly against your waist, with a deep red top that had overlapping straps across your chest and shoulders. It pulled your breasts higher and you loved it. You grab a loose cashmere-soft olive cardigan and slip a red leather collar with a bone-shaped tag reading 'bad girl' hanging from it around your neck.  
  
Yeah, it was a little gaudy, but you still liked it, and you were hoping it would catch Sans' attention.  
  
You pull on the cardigan on as you stuff your feet into loose black leather boots. A bit of your fuzzy socks peek from over the top of the boots, but you don't care. They were comfortable. You go full-out on your make-up, or at least what counted as full-out for you...  
  
You set up a ride on an app on your phone, and stuff your wallet into your tight back-pocket as you happily get on the elevator.  
  
*  
Just like you expected, the bar is packed. Even though you're here early, people have already started crowding around the stage. You have to wait behind nearly a dozen others to get a drink. You take the opportunity to scout the place for the giant skeleton.  
  
Well, at least giant compared to humans. He actually seemed pretty short for monsters.  
  
You finally get a drink and politely as possible scooch through the throng of people until you have a decent view of the stage. Now you wished you'd worn heels so you could see better, the stage was just too low for a good angle.  
  
A cheer starts from the back of the crowd and grows. People step aside and jostle each other as the anticipated band marches toward the stage. Your blood spikes with excitement and you chew your bottom lip, glad you decided to use long-lasting lipstick.  
  
Sans, Ted, and Hirsch climb onto the stage to a chorus of applause.  
  
Your heart sinks when Sans turns to the crowd. His eyes are solid black and he smiles chillingly at all of you. A few loud wolf-whistles and some excited screams only make him smile broader. "Y'all are some fuckin' freaks." he says, sliding the bass strap over his head, his red pupils returning with a blink.  
  
You anxiously sip your drink, feeling like an absolute groupie as your stare burns into him, desperate for him to see you. "Hope you ass-clowns are in the mood for some fuckin' HALESTORM! And if you aren't, deal with it." There's laughter and applause.  
  
"First up, a little song called, Sick. Individual. For the ones who let their freak-flag fly high!"  
  
Another thrill runs through you as Ted unleashes an insane drum-solo. Sans turns to the side, holding his hands up high to clap as she just keeps going. People scream for her and after a while Sans turns back to the mic, strumming in time with Hirsch, who makes his guitar wail. It reminds you of old heavy metal.  
  
Two of the verses make your heart race as he growls out the lyrics, baring his sharp teeth against the mic.  
  
_"Would you like to know what I do if I got you alone? Would I sigh, would I beg, would I feed, would I moan? I don't talk the talk cause I walk the walk and I'll shake it for you just like this singing la da da dala da da da save your kiss I need a lick."_  
  
The second time he makes your heart pound, he finds you in the crowd and smiles devilishly around the words pouring from him. The smile doesn't touch his eyes and he quickly looks away.  
  
_"So come a little bit closer, baby, 'cause all I want is you, so what are you gonna do, come a little bit closer, honey, gonna have my way with you!_  
  
_"'Cause I'm a sick individual, and I'm doing this thing called whatever the fuck I want, want, want! I'm unusual. Ain't taking no shit, gonna drink this sip 'till I'm gone, gone, gone. I'm livin' it up, not giving a what. I'm livin' it up, not giving a what. Sick individual! And I'm doing this thing called whatever the fuck I want, want, WANT!"_  
  
The song finishes and people cheer. You finish your drink and hope he looks your way again. But he doesn't. The next songs they play he keeps his sockets shut for most of them, only glancing at the back of the crowd.  
  
The ones you like the most are, _You call me a bitch like it’s a bad thing, Apocalyptic_ , and _I get off_. They finish with _I like it heavy_. And you can’t think of a more fitting way to end their set, it gets the whole club clapping in time with the music. Sans laces every word of the final verse with sex and soul, his voice touching that spot inside that can only be moved by enchanting music.  
  
You cheer with the audience when Hirsch and Sans put their guitars back on their stands. Sans takes a surprisingly graceful bow. He steps off the stage, landing hard on the floor and making a bee-line through the crowd to you. Stopping only a few times to shake someones hand or get a high five.  
  
Your stomach flips when he stands in front of you. “H-hey.” You give an excited smile. Sweat beads at his temples and an easy smirk sits on his face. “Hey.” his voice is hoarse, dry, and smoky.  
  
“You did some heavier stuff tonight. It suits you.”  
  
He shrugs, looking away as he tries to hide his smile. “Yeah,” he clears his throat when his voice cracks. “but I’ll probably lose my voice tomorrow.”  
  
“That’s criminal.”  
  
He laughs, the smile hangs on his face as he looks back at you. An ease seems to fill him and it makes your chest swell. “Wanna try another place?” he asks, tilting his skull toward the door.  
  
“Uh, sure! Just let me pay for my drink.” You turn to walk to the bar and are surprised to see Hirsch standing in front of you. “He said he’ll only give you your cut in person.” He tells Sans with a grimace.  
  
You glance back at Sans when he growls. “Where is he?”  
  
“His office.”  
  
“Hey, Kitten, meet me outside, yeah?” A shiver runs up your spine when he briefly rests his hand on the sway of your back and he quickly kisses your cheek. Your eyes widen as he walks away, vanishing into the crowd of towering monsters.  
  
“He’s gonna be a dick for at least an hour after this, have fun.” Hirsch tells you with a roll of his eyes.  
  
You come back to yourself and quickly pay for your drink before you turn for the door. The sound of something shattering in the kitchen catches everyone’s attention. Several employees calmly walk through the swinging kitchen door and the slim dragon working the bar turns up the music to cover the indiscernible shouting.  
  
You decide to make your way outside so you can catch Sans before he inevitably storms off after the argument with Grillby.  
  
The night air is heavy, thick with a cold humidity. Your breath hangs around you in a cloud, very slowly dissipating as it rises. You pull your cardigan tighter around you and are thankful for the non-existent wind. The snow from last week has long since melted. Spring was steadily pulling away from winter, but winter wasn't ready to give up just yet.  
  
You smile when the front doors slam open, expecting Sans. But instead, it's the kitchen staff coming out for a smoke break. Taa is among them. That fucking cat! Why were you seeing him everywhere?  
  
Duh, he worked and lived at Grillby's. You remind yourself as you start to sulk. What was taking Sans so long?  
  
"You uh, waiting for a ride or something?"  
  
Liquid ice sprints down your spine and you fold your arms tightly across your chest before you half-turn back to Taa. He smiles easily, one paw in his apron pocket and the other holding a cigarette at his side. Behind him you can see the other kitchen staff. A bunny and a dog talk quietly with each other and a tightly bundled reptilian monster jogs in place as they smoke.  
  
"Waiting for the angry skeleton, actually." You reply curtly, turning away from him again. Having your back to him makes you uneasy, but you're too concerned with ending this conversation to give it any credit.  
  
He laughs. "Well, he might be in there for a while."  
  
"Hm."  
  
You anxiously tap your foot, knowing he was still there.  
  
"Here, you look cold," you flinch when something warm and heavy sits on your shoulders. Goosebumps race along your skin when you smell pine needles and spice. The scent makes your heart pound painfully in your chest. You shove the coat off you and feel your stomach roll, you hold a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from vomiting.  
  
"Whoa, uh, s-sorry?" he offers weakly, holding his paws up as you tremble.  
  
His smell lingers to your own jacket and you strip out of it too, shaking your arms in an attempt to do something with the sickening spike of adrenaline. He takes a step closer to grab his coat from the ground and you copy him.  
  
"Back off." you snarl, muscles bunching like you were readying yourself for a fight. Taa’s arms fall at his sides. His eyes narrow just slightly, reading you very carefully. Something dark and dangerous dances at the edges of your mind.  
  
Instinctively, you know not to touch that hornets nest. But it hums so persistently.  
  
Fight or flight urges keep you steady. You don't react when Sans seems to appear from nowhere and snatches Taa by the shoulder, spinning the cat to face him. He catches a fistful of his shirt and pulls him close, nearly off his feet. "You should listen to her, before I break your fuckin' legs." Sans growls so quietly you almost don't hear him.  
  
The bunny and dog who'd been standing on the other side of the doors stand behind Sans, clearly confused and scared.  
  
Sans releases his shirt and Taa stumbles a few steps back before landing hard on his ass. "Jesus, what's your fucking deal, Sans?" he snaps as he finds his footing again.  
  
"You. If I see you bothering her again, I'll kill you."  
  
Taa laughs off the threat, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He holds it in his teeth as he waves his paws with dramatic sarcasm before grabbing his coat and shaking it off. He walks through the door, throwing a dark smile at you before disappearing.  
  
You begin to tremble again as the rest of the kitchen staff follow awkwardly after Taa. Sans turns back to you, most of his rage gone. You run your hands over your head and take a shaky breath.  
  
Those same dark thoughts, memories...? They prickle against your skull and you force them away. You didn't want to know what secrets they held.  
  
"What can I do?" Sans asks quietly, staying put.  
  
You close your eyes for a long moment and force yourself to relax. "You said something about 'trying another place'?"  
  
He gives you a weak smile, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Yeah, I did." he replies, his voice cracking. "I'm starving. How 'bout you Kitten?"  
  
"Ravenous."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edit to remove the mysterious reappearing cardigan :p


	4. So Much To Lose

You sit in the front of the dive bar Sans had _insisted_ you try. You took one of the tables near the massive front window and wait in the squeaky booth for your food across from him. A few barflies are scattered around and the music is somber. You recognize Fleetwood Mac in one of the songs.  
  
"So, what's so great about this place?" you ask quietly.  
  
"Well, I'm glad you went with the 'kitchen sink' like I did, it's a fuckin' masterpiece."  
  
You snort, your smile fades as you run a hand over your head. "Glad you didn't decide to just take off after earlier."  
  
"Hey, same. Ugh, men, right?" He rests his chin in his palm hard and rolls his pupils dramatically.  
  
You laugh and he gives you a crooked smile. "Yeah, buncha bastards." You reply, sipping your soda.  
  
"I know. Like, I just like," he pauses to flip non-existent hair over his shoulder. "wish just us girls could like, get rid of 'em. For good."  
  
You laugh even louder, covering your mouth when several people turn to look at you both. "Perfect. A plus acting." You give him a thumbs up.  
  
He beams back at you.  
  
You smile back, biting your lip in thought. "So, what changed your mind? You said you didn't want anything serious."  
  
He shrugs. "Nothin' serious. We're just getting food together."  
  
You nod, and not at all in a sarcastic way.  
  
"Ugh... I dunno, fuck. I thought maybe...I should try something different for a change." Your eyebrows rise. That was fitting, but why? "So...?"  
  
"So, I guess we could just...see what happens?" he finishes with a lilt in his voice.  
  
"Well, last time I 'dated' anyone was a _while_ ago." It felt like a lifetime ago, to be honest.  
  
Your food comes and your eyes widen at the height of your stacked burger. There were two patties, bacon, a fried egg, sliced avocado, onion strings, as well as the typical lettuce and tomato, plus melted cheese dripped down the sides and pooled on the plate around the bottom bun.  
  
"H-how do I eat this?" You ask with a laugh. Sans chuckles and smashes the top of the burger gently down until it's a more manageable size, compressing the vegetables and onions easily. Even with his larger than human hands and mouth, it still looks a little difficult for him to take the first bite. He sighs, content softening his features as he closes his eyes and chews.  
  
Your mouth is watering when you look back to your own plate. You copy him and smash the burger down as much as you can without ruining the buns. Egg yolk pours down the left side of the burger as you tentatively pick it up. The first bite is heavenly.  
  
Sans raises his eyebrows with a nod, his face saying, I told you, right?  
  
You give several slow nods of approval, too focused on your food to try to talk before your next bite. The both of you finish your meal in relative silence and you feel unreasonably comfortable in Sans' company for only spending time with him once before.  
  
You slowly eat the last of your fries as Sans sighs in satisfaction, leaning back in the booth. He's about three pints deep and he lets a moment of silence hang before he asks. "What happened earlier with the cat?"  
  
Your gut suddenly knots and you can't suppress a shudder crawling up your spine. With a shake of your head you say, "He just gave me his coat. I didn't ask for it. I'm sure he was just trying to be nice, but..."  
  
With another shake of your head, you run a hand over your face and look back at him curiously. "What was with the over-the-top reaction?"  
  
Sans shrugs, frowning into his beer as he takes a sip. He pulls out what looks like a metal pack of cigarettes and glances to the bartender. "Yo, smokin' in here okay?"  
  
The dead-eyed bartender looks up from his phone and points with a weary sigh at the stack of ashtrays at the end of the bar. Sans looks at you, hands on the table, about to stand. "You mind?" he asks.  
  
"Nah, go for it." You reply with a wave of your hand.  
  
He retrieves an ashtray and settles back into the booth, quickly lighting a brown cigarette with a flick of his thumb over a paper match from a matchbook. Your eyes widen, you didn't think they still made those cheap matchbooks. Smoking had fallen so out of style in the past decade, it was a rare sight.  
  
But weirdly nostalgic.  
  
Sans takes a long drag and sighs smoke away from you. He shakes his head, his sockets staring at nothing as he shifts his jaw in thought. "I don't like him. I didn't like the way he stared at you last time in Grillby's. I didn't like the way he made you look. Like something cornered and ready for a fight."  
  
He takes a harsh pull of his cigarette, closing his eyes with a soft growl as he leans forward onto the table. He taps the cigarette on the ashtray and smoke spirals up around his face, slowly pouring from his teeth. He looks back at you, pausing with the cigarette just in front of his teeth.  
  
If you could take a picture to capture that moment, you would've. You would've had a painting commissioned of it. He looked so damn sexy. Pensive, troubled, concerned... In that moment you believe that the eyes really are windows to the soul, because he betrays so much emotion in that second you swear you could hold his very essence in your hands.  
  
You forget where the conversation was going for a solid thirty seconds. Sans looks back at you as he places the cigarette in his teeth, the ember at the edge glowing bright red.  
  
"Uh, yeah. It just..." you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Something hits me wrong about him. It's probably just my damn phobia." You laugh darkly, dropping the fry you were about to eat on your plate and leaning heavily on your arms folded across the table. "I should really get over myself."  
  
"Hey, never, never doubt your gut, okay? Your instincts are there for a reason, to keep you safe. Don't trivialize what it tells you. Take it from me."  
  
You smile halfheartedly at that and pick up a cold fry, biting into it aggressively. "What happened with Grillby?" you ask him.  
  
He rolls his pupils, sighing smoke again. He presses his thumb into his forehead as he closes his eyes. "He-ugh," he groans, angrily finishing his cigarette and quickly lighting another. He offers you one and you shrug, taking the strong smelling, tightly rolled cigarette. He leans across the table and you light your cigarette off his.  
  
A blush creeps into your cheeks, it felt more intimate than it really was. You breathe deep the strange tasting smoke and close your eyes at the soft tingling that darts erratically down your nerves. You exhale smoke and find his face with narrowed lids. "Magic?" You ask curiously.  
  
He nods, angrily smoking. He waves his hand, his eyes closed as he struggles to find words. "Ugh. He's...he thinks he can-he thinks he knows-fuck."  
  
You hold up the hand that gracefully balances your cigarette to stop him. "Hey, you don't have to talk about it."  
  
His skull snaps to you and he stares back at you in confusion. He unsteadily takes another drag and eventually looks away. You let silence hang, glancing over the bar as another inhale pulls sparkling magic into your lungs. It urges your body into a calm between tipsy and high. A clear-headed peace.  
  
You stand and walk to the bar to order a two shots of whiskey, knowing it was Sans' favorite liquor. He smiles in a strained relief when you gesture him to the bar. He bites the end of his cigarette and picks up the plates on the table, handing them to the bartender who had also been your waiter earlier.  
  
You both take your shots and you tap the bar lightly twice to tell the bartender to refill the shot glasses. He gives you what looks like a rare smirk as he pulls up a third shot glass and takes the next round with you two.  
  
"On the house." he says, pouring three more shots. "May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past." The bartender toasts in monotone. You blink hard, already feeling some of the alcohol hitting your system as you all smack your glasses into each other before throwing them back.  
  
"Closin' up in an hour." The bartender tells you in a deadpan voice.  
  
Sans nods as you head back to your booth. You take a long drag and close your eyes at the sensation. You could easily see yourself getting addicted to these things like you never could with regular cigarettes.  
  
"You're not gonna...push to know what we argued about?" He asks.  
  
You shrug. "Honestly, I never push anyone to talk about anything that upsets 'em. Unless they need to get it out. If they need to just tell someone, I'm all ears. But, like, do whatever makes you feel best, man." You tap your cigarette into the ashtray and watch his expression change between different flavors of confusion.  
  
"Huh," he blinks at the table. He pulls out his phone and checks the time. "You uh, got anything happening in the next four hours?" he asks, looking back at you without moving his head.  
  
A heady thrill rushes through your veins. "What did you have in mind?" you ask in a sultry tone.  
  
He chuckles, leaning closer to you. "Oh, I've got a few ways we could uh, pass the time." he says with a wiggle of his sockets.  
  
*  
  
You snort yourself awake like the graceful lady you are.  
  
Your head pounds harshly with a hangover. For a few moments you lie still and let the spinning in your brain slow. Very carefully, you sit upright and are surprised to see your legs tangled with your shorts. They were half-way down your thighs and your panties were pulled lower on your right hip than the left.  
  
You hold a palm to your head with a groan and gasp when you feel a cool arm wrap around your waist, tugging you gently back.  
  
You were on the floor of a messy bedroom. Empty beer bottles and a few empty and half-empty liquor bottles are scattered across the carpet. The room is dark, the only light from a video game save-screen on the TV mounted against the wall. You turn and see Sans sprawled behind you, his shirt missing and his boxers tugged part-way over his ass.  
  
His eyes are closed, but he grunts drowsily as he tugs again on your waist. You're too tired and too hungover to try to figure out what's going on, so you kick off your shorts and curl against the large body of the skeleton behind you.  
  
*  
  
You groan on your back as you blink hard up at the unfamiliar ceiling. A blanket cocoons you and a scratchy carpet rubs against your face. A shower runs at full-blast somewhere nearby. You tilt your head against the floor and see the pristine white tile of a bathroom. Steam fogs the mirror and you slowly roll to your stomach.  
  
A glass of water rests an arms length away from you.  
  
You fish your hand from the blanket and pull the water to your parched lips, quickly gulping all of it. The shower turns off with a loud squeak of the knobs and you lift your head to the open bathroom door.  
  
Your eyes widen and your jaw slowly drops when you see Sans step out of his shower. Water runs in thick rivulets down his bones as he grasps for the towel hanging on his sink. Your eyes focus on his flaccid red dick and you can't can't tear your gaze away.  
  
A throaty chuckle brings your eyes to his face as he starts to dry off. "Well, good mornin' to you too, Kitten."  
  
You start to look away but stop yourself, smiling smugly up at him as you rest your chin in your palms. From the corner of your eye you can see his cock start to rise at your attention. Sans raises his sockets once and shuts the door with a simple, "Heh,".  
  
You chew your lip with a sly smile as you disentangle yourself from the blanket. You find your shorts on the floor near the bed and pull them on as something like recognition sparks in your brain. With a short shake of your head you turn on the spot, looking over everything in his room. The black metal bed-frame tucked against the wall, his matching black dresser and nightstand, the dark red plush carpet.  
  
The bathroom door opens and you turn to look at Sans. To your disappointment, he's fully dressed.  
  
You gesture at the bottles littering the floor, "How drunk did we get last night?"  
  
Sans chuckles, "Too drunk to fuck, I can tell you that much. Also, you suck at Smash Bros."  
  
You huff in mock offense. "Excuse you, I kick ass at Smash. I had to have been plastered to not even remember playing, though."  
  
He searches through the top drawer of his dresser for socks with a laugh. "You can really handle your alcohol. I haven't met many people, human or otherwise, that can drink that much without puking."  
  
You shrug the compliment off with a smile.  
  
"I like the socks, by the way. Comfort over fashion, woman after my own heart."  
  
You look down at your fuzzy socks and laugh, you'd forgotten you had them on. "Your boots are by the front door." he adds as he strides across the room, socks in hand. He opens the door and you follow after him before stopping dead in your steps.  
  
An inexplicable outrage grips your chest, you hear the distant whispers of an argument. For a split second when Sans turns back to you in confusion, you can see his face overlayed with a smug rage. The outrage in your chest fades quickly to a hollow, exhausted ache.  
  
You grip the twisted iron railing that overlooks the open floor plan downstairs, suddenly dizzy. Your knees shake and Sans has to wave a hand in front of your face to bring you back in the moment.  
  
You blink and look back at him. His sockets are furrowed with worry. "You still in there?" he asks with a forced laugh.  
  
You scrunch your eyes shut for a second before giving a fake smile with a nod. "Ye-yeah. Uh, just got dizzy. I just need some water, I'm probably dehydrated."  
  
Sans hand begins to reach for you, but he pulls back. "Okay. I-I have work in the underground today, you gonna be good? 'Cause I can stay if you need me to."  
  
You wave your hand at the idea. "No, no, I'll be fine. It's just a hangover."  
  
"Alright, uh, not sure when our next show is gonna be. Mind if I get your number, just, you know, for the next show night?"  
  
You roll your eyes and walk around him toward the stairs, pressing your phone into his palm as you go. "You're allowed to just want to see me again." You tell him without looking back and grabbing your boots. You sit in the armchair closest to the door and start pulling your shoes on, quickly lacing them up.  
  
"Let a man have his pride." Sans replies.  
  
"Only if I can take it away sometime." You tell him with a smirk. You can see him stiffen at the slight teasing. He taps your phone against his palm a few times, smiling lopsidedly with a shake of his head.  
  
"Oh, Kitten, I'd love to let you try." He rumbles.  
  
You sit up, done tying your boots. He pauses a moment before extending his hand to return your phone.  
  
He was standing just in front of the couch, you notice without looking away from his face. With a smooth motion, you stand, grab the wrist that held your phone and firmly shove against his chest until he steps back, falling against the couch. While you have him distracted, you slip onto his lap. You smile broadly at the growing erection in his pants.  
  
He blinks up at you in shock before his head falls back against the couch with a long, frustrated sigh.  
  
"Uh, you okay?" you ask.  
  
"I cannot be late to work today." he whines.  
  
"Ah," you reply quietly.  
  
You give a short gasp when he grabs your hips, shifting his weight so you're on your back beneath him on the couch. He smiles above you, slowly leaning closer until his weight begins to push you into the cushions. He carefully licks his lips before angling his skull for the side of your neck.  
  
Your heart pounds and your eyes flutter shut before he lightly kisses your skin and leans back, sitting upright.  
  
You lay there for a second in confused disappointment. "Jerk," you say with a dry laugh as he lifts your leg and starts to push it from his lap. He grips your ankle, pausing with it against his shoulder. He half-lids his sockets down at you, his other hand gliding up your opposite leg. You surprise yourself with the shaky gasp that escapes when he gently presses himself against you.  
  
"Mm, Kitten... You're gonna be an absolute treat to unwrap." He winks and throws your ankle over his back before standing from the couch.  
  
You hide your disappointment this time as you stand, too. "I'm guessing you see what I was getting at last week?"  
  
He smiles, stepping close and slipping a hand to the small of your back to pull you tight against him. His other hand tilts your head up at your chin. For a moment he just stares intensely back at you, his hand slowly sliding along your jaw to rest at the nape of your neck.  
  
"Oh yeah," he leans forward, breathing against your ear. "I wanna see you come completely unraveled for me."  
  
A pleasant shiver runs down your spine as your fingers wrap around his jacket. "Hm, who said you'd get to top?"  
  
"Oh, Kitten, it's not gonna matter who goes first. 'Cause I'm still gonna see that pretty face of yours come undone."  
  
Your toes curl in your boots as you let your head fall forward into his chest. "No chance you could just 'call in' today?"  
  
He chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead before stepping back. "Not a chance. Plus, now you've got me curious, how long can we resist each other?"  
  
"Is...that a challenge?"  
  
He gives you a knowing grin.  
  
"Well then, what're the terms?" You ask, folding your arms over your chest and cocking a hip out with a broad smile.  
  
"How about, whoever 'breaks' first and begs for 'more' or for just sex in general, loses."  
  
"So, anything is permitted as long as we don't beg or ask for sex, or certain things?"  
  
"That sounds interesting. Sure."  
  
"What's the winner get?"  
  
He frowns for a second in thought.  
  
"Ooh, how about the loser has to be the winner's bed-bitch for a week?"  
  
He snorts, "Bed-bitch?"  
  
"Yeah, like they have to do everything the winner asks them to do in bed, boundaries permitting. But mostly like, making them service the winner."  
  
"Deal."  
  
"Deal," you agree.  
  
He laughs, turning to get the front door. "Well, this is gonna be fun."  
  
"Oh, hang on." You add before he opens the door. He turns curiously to you as you deftly lift your bra and shirt and your breasts bounce free. His sockets go wide and black with shock.  
  
With a proud smirk you tug your clothes back over your torso and watch as he takes a few moments to recover.  
  
You shrug. "I got to see your dick, I figured I should let you see my boobs."  
  
"S-seems fair." he rasps, blinking his pupils back into his sockets.

 

******

 

Bonus Scene: Every Breath You Take

  
Taa steps out into the night. He wants a cigarette before he heads back inside to the small curvy brunette he'd convinced into his bed. She wasn't very exciting and far from satisfying. But she was better than nothing.  
  
The wind blows and a soft hint of a tantalizing scent brushes past him.  
  
He follows it without thinking and at the corner of Grillby's he sees a dark green knit jacket lying forgotten on the sidewalk. His eyes widen, his pupils blossoming before he drops his cigarette from his teeth.  
  
Carefully, he lifts the cardigan from the ground. The delicate fabric is soft against the pads of his paws. Without checking if someone was watching, he balls the jacket and holds it against his short muzzle. His ears fold back flat against his head and his eyes shut as he gives a trembling sigh.  
  
His cock is painfully erect as he breathes in again, the smell of the human woman he was obsessing over stoking the fire in his core. The one that was playing so hard to get. The one that was teasing him, openly flirting with that stupid skeleton. He loved the mind-games she was playing, but his patience was running thin.   
  
Jealousy starts to spark when he remembers how she acted that evening. Like he was _disgusting._ Letting Sans 'come to her rescue' like he was going to hurt her or something. The fire in her eyes had been worth it though. Her passion burning bright as she kept the game going.  
  
He pulls the jacket away from his face and opens his eyes, his pupils black moons encircled in a thin ring of green. His fingers rub the soft fabric between them reverently as he smiles. She'd left him a gift, for playing so well, so patiently.  
  
The smile falls from his muzzle and the light in his eyes dies, his pupils shrinking to narrow slits in an ocean of icy green. Like a stormy ocean about to swallow a life raft.  
  
She'd graced him with a present and he was spending the night with a slut. He would have to think of something deserving enough to gift her as an apology.

He was going to have to suffer the consequences of his impatience.  
  
But the curvy brunette was going to suffer more for seducing him away from his true mistress...


	5. For You

You sit on Sans' amp in the large practice room at the very back of Grillby's Bar. You had to keep reminding yourself this place used to be a warehouse, the sheer size of it kept surprising you. Tapping your foot nervously against the thick rug, you glance at Grillby standing stoically at the far left side of the room. He watches Sans and his band-mates with one arm folded tightly over his chest, the other occasionally pulls the cigarette from his mouth so he can exhale smoke dramatically.  
  
Across the room in front of the mirror-lined wall, a group of bunnies--both male and female--along with two dogs, a reptilian monster, and three cats you don't recognize are stretching together. They surprise you with their brightly colored leg-warmers and long-sleeved leotards. They're the first monsters you've seen in anything but black, red, and yellow.  
  
They talk quietly, laughing every few minutes before they all disperse to work on their own routines with the evenly spaced poles and sheets of strong fabric hanging from the ceiling.  
  
The floor is a highly polished lightly colored wood, and only a quarter of the room is dedicated to the performance artists. The middle is spacious and empty, and the last quarter is covered with overlapping rugs. A line of two dozen full-length lockers sit against the wall beside Grillby. Instrument cases, outfits, stacks of CD's, and thick binders are scattered a few feet around the lockers, still out of the way and organized...somehow.  
  
Grillby notices you staring and you look back to the others.  
  
Hirsch hands sheet music to Sans and Ted. You shake your head slightly, gently reprimanding yourself. Her name was Bea now. Sans had told you before you got here today about how she'd finally decided on a name to suit who she was on the inside. Her face had lit up when you introduced yourself properly and said her new name.  
  
Sans also said she'd only 'come out' a few months ago and was still nervous about it. His and Hirsch's nonchalant way of accepting her while still taking her seriously was such a relief to see. You wish that people were more like monsters.  
  
Sans sets his sheet music on a music stand in front of him as he pulls the bass strap over his head. "Hirsch, bud, I'm pretty sure you're the only reason we ever learn anything new."  
  
"No kidding," Bea agrees.  
  
Hirsch shrugs it off and lowers his music stand so he can see it while he sits on the edge of his amp. Both his and Sans' amplifiers are turned off and Bea has thick black dampening pads over her drumset.  
  
You can still feel Grillby's stare burning into you and wonder how Sans could pretend not to notice.  
  
For about thirty minutes the trio quietly practice their music and you watch the performers spin, tangle, drop, and laugh across the room. You smile, sometimes closing your eyes as Sans sings under his breath while he plucks flawlessly at his bass strings.  
  
"You guys gonna kill this quiet anytime soon?" Theodora calls and you realize she's the tallest and curviest of the bunnies.  
  
One of the cats with a Chimera fur-pattern snickers from where she straddles a pole near the ceiling, her mismatched eyes shining mischievously. Your usual fear doesn't creep up on you, but you don't notice it. Or rather, the lack of it.  
  
Out of the corner of your eyes you see Grillby light another cigarette.  
  
The trio glance at each other and Sans shrugs. "Sure, why not?"  
  
A thrill runs through your blood as Sans and Hirsch turn on their amps, Bea doesn't take the dampening pads from her drum-set.  
  
"Nah, Bea, make it loud!" one of the dogs calls.  
  
Sans smirks over his shoulder at her. "Yeah. Let's really let loose." he says with a small growl. "Hirsch wants to do some Metallica, might as well try _Cyanide._ "  
  
Something about his tone hits you wrong and the way he cuts his eyes in Grillby's direction adds to your confusion. Bea counts them in after she pulls the pads off and the song starts hard, fast, and loud.  
  
Before Sans finishes the second verse Grillby is out the practice room door, blue sparks dancing around his face as he slams the door open. The song is one of the darkest ones you've heard them perform. Usually there was some kind of lighter tone to their songs. The energy is invigorating. You can feel the pulse of the notes through the amp and the floor in your chest.  
  
The song ends and Hirsch suggests another song, and Bea waves him off. "We're gonna be playing the 'sexy' songs next week, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, but we've got all of those down. Let's play something different."  
  
"What d'you wanna hear, Kitten?" Sans asks, speaking over the other two.  
  
"Uh," you think for a moment, surprised he would ask. "Something new?" Your voice lilts up and makes it a question.  
  
Hirsch beams at you, "Dude, I wanna hear you sing Godsmack. I got the music for _Serenity."_ he looks back to Sans, smile still broad and excited.  
  
"Now you've done it," Sans says to you with a wink. "All right, let's go back and forth then. A song we know, and a new one."  
  
"Sounds good to me," Bea says as Hirsch nods.  
  
Hirsch puts his electric guitar on a guitar stand and grabs an acoustic guitar from behind him. He props his leg against the amp so he can balance the curve of the guitar against his thigh. Bea sighs and walks toward the lockers, grabbing a tall conga drum and a tambourine. She sits down, bending over to set the tambourine under her foot and giving a few experimental taps. She nods to the other two and Hirsch starts playing.  
  
You find yourself swaying to the soothing song and easily lose yourself in Sans' gentle growling voice and the hypnotic music.  
  
They finish and it feels like you're coming out of a trance. The song couldn't be that short, right?  
  
"Yo, play that next week!"  
  
"You got it!" Sans calls back.  
  
  
*  
  
You and Sans take an Uber to his place after practice. On the way, you take advantage of the disinterested driver and lay a hand heavily on his upper thigh. After a few moments, your fingers crawl over his crotch. You smile smugly up at him as you tap your fingertips on his hard dick, easily visible through his gym shorts.  
  
His face is stoic, but the blush around his cheekbones and the half-second when he closes his eyes are a dead giveaway. You trace your fingers along the length of him, shivering with deep delight at how large he was. Longer than your flattened hand by at least a few inches, and almost as wide as your palm.  
  
You glance at the driver quickly before gripping him through his shorts and giving him a slow, soft stroke.  
  
His sockets close as he tilts his head in concentration. He starts to speak but closes his teeth tightly. You suddenly tighten your grip and he groans, his eyes snapping open as he doubles over with a decently convincing cough to hide the sound. You pull your hand away and try to hide your smile as you pat his back gently.  
  
You two order pizza and head up to his room after it arrives. He balances the boxes in one hand, holding a bottle of whiskey in the other. You carry a twelve pack of coke and a case of beer up the stairs after him.  
  
You smirk at his semi-cleaned room. The floor was clear of everything but a small pile of laundry beside the bathroom door. His bed was even made.  
  
"Got a maid, huh?" You ask, kicking the bedroom door shut behind you.  
  
Sans chuckles. "Obvious, isn't it? Ugh, yeah, Papyrus was being such a hard-ass about it I just went ahead and found a cleaning service. So much easier."  
  
You caught him staring at you, like he always did. Regardless of what you were wearing he would study your every move when he thought you weren't watching. He gives a shake of his head with a weak smile and looks away when you wink at him.  
  
He sits on the bed, placing the pizza to his left, and you do the same, setting the cans on the floor between you. You had to admit you really enjoyed his company. He was easy to talk with, his sense of humor suited yours, and he had a unique and compelling charm that was nearly impossible to resist. He was also so hot you almost couldn't stand the bet you two had going.  
  
You were going to hold it up as long as you could, but after two weeks, it was starting to get frustrating. Was it really only two weeks? It felt so much longer. The tension was building between you...and yet it wasn't all sexual. It was that and so much more. Like something was bubbling just beneath the surface of recognition, on the tip of your tongue, and when it came into the light it would change your lives.  
  
It was a feeling you were starting to get accustomed to around the skeleton.  
  
Sans turns on the movie you'd agreed to watch together. The Shape of Water. He nearly spits a mouthful of beer everywhere when, less than ten minutes in, it shows the main character blurrily masturbating in her bathtub at the edge of the screen.  
  
You laugh as he slowly recovers.  
  
"Th-they show that in movies?!" he blurts out, pausing the movie and looking at you like you'd personally approved that scene for the silver screen.  
  
"If by 'that' you mean getting yourself off, then yeah. They'll sometimes even show people kissing." You tell him snarkily as you finish your first beer.  
  
He rolls his pupils. "I mean," he gestures to the screen, paused with Elisa making a sandwich at her table. "I thought that just stayed in porn."  
  
You understand his confusion now. "They don't show that kind of stuff together, story and sex, in the underground, huh?"  
  
He shakes his head. "There's _porn,_ then there's _entertainment."_ he explains.  
  
"Well, you're in for a pleasant surprise with human movies."  
  
He quirks his socket at you before resuming the movie.  
  
About halfway through the film and six beers deep, you're feeling the effects of the alcohol and the building tension between you and Sans, and in the movie. You decide to do something about it, while still following the rules of the wager of course. You start to pull your shirt up but stop when Sans asks somberly, "Is that...really how people see monsters?" he looks at you, his expression quickly fading from thoughtful to blank surprise.  
  
You release the hem of your shirt and look back at the movie. "Well...unfortunately, yeah. But it looks like so far they've shown more people who're concerned about Mr. Amphibian-Man's well-being and freedom, than people who just want to control or kill him." You glance back at Sans, the blank expression still on his face.  
  
You chuckle lightly. "I'd say humanity is full of more people like Elisa than people like that cunt of an FBI guy."  
  
Sans laughs dryly. "Yeah, yeah you're probably right." He pulls the whiskey bottle to his lips, resting his weight on his elbows against his knees. You see his head tilt slightly toward you when you start to unbutton your pants.  
  
"It's getting hot." you say simply as you stand and drop your jeans to the floor before sitting back on his bed, scooting until your back was against the wall. You grab another slice of pizza and accept the bottle when he passes it to you, propping your left knee up and against the foot-board of the bed. The action spreads your legs enough to give him a perfect view.  
  
"Mmm," you sigh, washing down a bite of still warm pizza with whiskey.  
  
When you open your eyes, he's staring at you intensely. The movie plays on, ignored by both of you at this point. You gracelessly shove the rest of the slice in your mouth as an idea suddenly hits you.  
  
"MMPH! BWOWJWBS!!" You declare unintelligibly.  
  
Sans snorts. "God, you're fuckin' perfect."  
  
You swallow hard and try again, ignoring the incredibly endearing compliment, "Blowjobs!" You repeat, sliding to your feet and opening his bedroom door.  
  
"What?" he calls after you as you quickly trot down the stairs.  
  
"Blowjobs!" You yell again, unhelpfully. You jog to the kitchen, flipping on the light as you open the liquor cabinet. Papyrus loved coffee, surely he'd have coffee liqueur.  
  
You pause. How did you know that? You hadn't even met the guy.  
  
You shake it off and start looking through the bottles. "Aha!" You say, finding the coffee liqueur and setting it on the counter. "You got whipped cream?" You ask Sans when he stands beside you, even more confused than before.  
  
"Uh," he opens the fridge. "Uh, yeah? Surprisingly."  
  
You give a triumphant, "HA!" when you find the Amaretto and Irish Cream. You find shot glasses in the cabinets and quickly make four of the blowjob shots, taking the whipped cream in the spray can away from Sans to top them off.  
  
"What are those?" he asks with a laugh.  
  
"Blowjob shots." You tell him with a wiggle of your eyebrows, enjoying the growing blush on his cheeks. "You hold the shot in your lap, over your crotch, then the person taking the shot picks it up with their mouth and throws it back without touching it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"C'mon, I'll go first. Sit." You point to the couch, handing him two of the shot glasses. You carry the other two to the coffee table and set them down. Sans hesitantly sits down, holding one of his shot glasses near his thigh. "No, hold it here." you correct, moving his hand over his dick. He quietly clears his throat.  
  
You slide to your knees, your eyes find his and you can see him biting his bottom lip by the way his teeth vanish in a slanted line. You smile, slowly spreading his thighs with your hands. "So, you do this with your hands behind your back." You tell him, clasping your hands together as you rise on your knees and bend at your waist toward him.  
  
You look up at him and lick your lips before licking at the neat swirl of whipped cream on top of the drink. His sockets widen slightly before you dip your face low and wrap your lips around the slippery shot glass. With pride burning in your eyes you snap your head back and down the shot in one gulp.  
  
Without speaking he shifts the other shot glass in his hands over his crotch and watches you closely. You smile back at him as you set your empty glass on the coffee table.  
  
This time, you start by lightly kissing the bare skin of his knees, your lips nudge the fabric of his shorts higher. You lick at the salty skin of his thigh and you can feel his muscles roll. With a broad smile, you kiss his other thigh in the same way. This time biting gently at the skin half-way to his crotch.  
  
You feel his hand ghost over your hair. When you look up at him, his free hand is gripping the couch cushion tightly.  
  
You slowly lick your lips, letting your head roll just a little as your eyelids flutter. He inhales sharply when you lower your open mouth to the whipped cream. You loudly slurp up the cream and part of the drink and give a half-fake moan. You hear a very quiet, "Oh fuck." from above you.  
  
You wrap your lips around the shot glass and throw your head back again, smiling as you swallow before you set the glass back down on the coffee table.  
  
Sans stands as you grab a shot glass, before you can stand he sinks to the floor. He gently guides your hand to hold the glass over your panties before he carefully pushes against your shoulder. Heart beating fast, you lay back on the carpet, tilting your head to watch him. You can't watch for long, the cool sensation of his tongue against your inner-thigh makes your eyes squeeze shut.  
  
He nips at your skin, slowly traveling up your leg. You hear his teeth make harsh contact with the glass and you sit up with a gasp. Sans is laughing, holding the glass with one hand and the other holding his mouth. "You pick it up with your lips, huh?" He asks after a moment.  
  
You laugh, nodding. "Yeah, teeth can't grip glass."  
  
He gives you a sultry wink before tipping the shot glass over and splashing your crotch, thighs and shirt with liquor.  
  
"Sans!" You cry out in shock.  
  
"Whoops," he replies sarcastically as liquid drips across your thighs. The whipped cream had broken apart, a large chunk sat on your left hip, smaller pieces are scattered over your legs. He lowers himself over you, his pupils watching your face as he extends his dark-red tongue to give long, languid licks across your skin.  
  
He slowly inches closer to your soaked panties and your breath hitches. Without hesitation he latches his mouth over your crotch and you throw your head back. You can feel his tongue rolling over you, pressing firmly against your sensitive, pulsing privates. The thin fabric of your underwear is too much separating you from him.  
  
Without remembering when it happened, you find yourself flat on your back as his agile tongue slips under the elastic of your panties near your thigh. You whimper, struggling to bite back any sound as he starts to gently explore the folds of skin until he finds your clit. A low moan makes you slap a hand over your mouth and he concentrates on that spot until you're breathless.  
  
Sans pulls back, staring smugly down at you as he licks his lips. "Look like you wanna say something, Kitten."  
  
You feel the tension in your muscles give out. "Uh-huh, it's 'fuck off, I'm not letting you win that easy'."  
  
"Aw, you know you want more..." he rumbles, running his hands across your sticky thighs.  
  
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." you reply with a shrug, sitting up.  
  
His pupils dart down as he scoops a dollop of whipped cream from your thigh on his middle and ring fingers. He holds them up, about to lick it off.  
  
You grab his wrist, your fingers wrapping around his layered bracelets. Closing your eyes you slide his fingers into your mouth, your tongue rolling against his cool skin. You show him how well you've mastered your gag reflex and he gives a quiet shaky sigh.  
  
He pulls you closer by hooking his fingers gently against the roof of your mouth before his hand slips to the back of your head. His lips crash against yours, his tongue pushing roughly through your mouth. You easily climb into his lap through the fiery kiss, your shins flat against the carpet beneath you as your hips move on their own.  
  
He groans into you, his left hand gripping your ass to press you harder into his erection. You give a small moan, holding his skull fiercely with both hands, your teeth pinching his invisible lip briefly.  
  
You don't know how long you two grope at each other, every touch no where near satisfying the passion ignited between you.  
  
You're both breathing heavily when you finally pull away. "I want you," he growls, his forehead resting against yours. The raw hunger in his sockets sends a shiver down your spine. You wanted him too.  
  
But you had your pride.  
  
You smile smugly down at him, "Giving up so soon?"  
  
He shuts his sockets and his grip on you tightens before he shoves you to the floor. Something rumbles deep in his chest, you can feel it against your skin as he tucks his face into your neck. His tongue caresses your skin before his teeth rake down your neck.  
  
"Ahhnn..." you can't help but twist to expose more of your neck for him. His hand slides under your shirt, under your bra and massages your breast. You hook your knees over his hips and he grinds into you, his hard cock rubbing against your clit.  
  
You start to beg for more, for him to take you, but a short scream steals your words. "NNGaaah!"  
  
_"Fuck,_ louder sweetheart, screa--" he stops, realizing what he let slip.  
  
You mentally acknowledge it, but pull his skull back against your neck before he can sit up. _"Harder,"_ you tell him firmly. Your head rolls back and your toes point as he pinches the skin over your collar bone between his teeth. "OH! _Shit!"_ Your hands tangle in his shirt as you grip him tightly against you. His hips start to work again and your eyes roll back.  
  
Sans' lips are at your ear, his breath heavy and his voice cracking with need. "Please, I-I-!" His hips buck, and the hand holding your shoulder was suddenly gripping you too tightly.  
  
"Shhh..." You soothe, the passion in you beginning to simmer low. He groans into your neck, curling over you. You savor the sound for a moment before an idea pops into your head. "I don't think I'm ready for the game to end."  
  
"You fucking sadist." He says with a frustrated smile, pushing himself up enough to look down at you. You twitch one eyebrow higher for a split-second, smiling smugly. "Occasionally," you reply.  
  
He scoffs. "I've noticed," he groans, sitting back on his heels. "So, what're you wanting to do? Just forget my slip-up?"  
  
"Mm, I'd rather push off your bed-bitch duties indefinitely. But I want to do something else in the mean-time." His eyes brighten. "Something that ups the ante."  
  
Sans' sockets dim, narrowing as he tilts his head slightly. "Go on."  
  
Your smile widens as you sit up, crossing your legs and leaning back on your palms. "Mm, I was thinking we can't touch each other."  
  
He blinks back at you in surprise, his sockets wide. "And the reward?"  
  
You shrug, "No idea."  
  
He scoffs again, laughing.  
  
"The incredible sex we'd have afterward?" you offer.  
  
He closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. He opens his eyes and they bore into you. "Or, we could just have incredible sex right now. I-I'd give just about any...anything to hear you scream my name." His voice is low, gravelly and sultry.  
  
You chuckle and tilt your head back, inhaling deep. Your thighs shift against each other as you moan softly, getting yourself into the right mood. "Oh-oh fuck! Oh, _oohhh,_ God! _S-SAAANS!"_ Your voice cracks perfectly and when you roll your head back to look at him, the pupils in his sockets have vanished. His fists are clenched tightly around his shorts and for a few seconds he doesn't breathe.  
  
"I think I love you," he blurts.  
  
Your eyebrows rise, not sure what to do with the sudden confession. Especially when he doesn't try to correct himself.  
  
"Uh..." you say stupidly, giving a nervous laugh.  
  
Sans blinks, his pupils returning. "Whoops," he jokes dryly.  
  
"Don't worry, hot-stuff...pretty sure that's a two-way street." You tell him with a wink, glossing over the awkwardness. Well, it wasn't entirely awkward. It had just been a very, very long time since anyone had said that to you with any real feeling.  
  
"I don't want to wait to hear the real thing." You know he's talking about your scream earlier.  
  
"Well, you already lost one bet, what's another?" you say with a shrug.  
  
"A-are we gonna," he pauses to clear his throat, "are we gonna finish that movie?" Is his eventual answer to your rhetorical question.  
  
"Uh, sure." you smile.  
  
You both stand, careful to avoid each other. Now the temptation of his touch was a rush through your veins. He downs his second shot and you follow him back upstairs to his room. He skips backwards to where you'd stopped earlier and you step into his bathroom to clean the sticky liqueur from your skin. You shut the door and quickly wash your panties in the sink, wringing them out. You're thankful they were lace and mesh as you pull them back on before stepping back into his room.

 

****

 

Bonus Scene: Poison  
  
  
Taa wakes, humping the blanket and sheets tangled in his legs. He groans, frustrated his dream had been interrupted. He's still breathing heavily and he can almost taste the blood that had been on his tongue in his sleep.  
  
He closes his eyes, turning his face into his pillow as his body rolls against the thick bundle of fabric twisted between his legs. He bares his sharp teeth, his claws dig into the mattress as the friction gives little relief. Taa keeps at it, struggling to reach the images that had painted his dream so perfectly.  
  
Sweet, soft sounds still echo in his ears, overtaken by screams of pain, pleasure, passion.  
  
_I don’t want to see you again._  
  
His eyes snap open and he roars, enraged. That one sentence. That _one_ fucking sentence! He kept hearing it over and over. The words so real, so cutting. They always derailed any fantasy he lost himself in. He stands, kicking furiously at the blankets tangled around him as he starts to pace in his small room.  
  
His tail twitches angrily, his head jerking to the side every few seconds as he struggles to control the outrage within. Baring his teeth again, he harshly pulls his paws over his face and down his neck. His lips quiver, his head still jerks toward his shoulder as he closes his eyes. His ears lie flat and his paws clench, nails extended and digging into the pale pink pads of his palms.  
  
Slowly his breathing calms, his shoulders relax, his mind clears.  
  
His posture changes to an apathetic facade, masking the chaos within. A transparent green haze pools around his eyes. Internally, he relishes the flood of magic in his veins, knowing it was what his mistress wanted. She wanted him to dive over the edge of passion for her so she could possess him fully.  
  
Externally he blinks slowly, his body still as stone as the green haze fades.  
  
His gaze settles on the olive cardigan folded lovingly on his nightstand. He hadn't touched it since he'd taken and eaten the face of the woman who had so maliciously seduced him, making him betray his mistress. A few other pieces were taken as well, things that would make it difficult for someone to identify her. He didn't know if anyone had found her body yet and he didn't care. Nothing was going to stand in between him and his beloved.  
  
No human or monster authorities were going to stop him.  
  
He still owed her an apology, but he knew he wasn't allowed to face her just yet. He still needed to wait patiently for her to make the first move. Her reaction to his last gesture--giving her his coat--meant he'd overstepped the boundaries of their game.  
  
_You crossed a line!_  
  
His careful facade cracks for just a second, his eyes closing gently as he somewhat controls the harsh twitch of his head. He winces quietly at the shame, the hurt that prickles unpleasantly through his chest.  
  
Taa grants himself permission to carefully, gingerly, lift the cardigan to his short snout. He shudders with restrained pleasure. His body ached for hers, he could hardly stand it.  
  
Before he could stop himself, his paw had wrapped around the neat rows of smooth nubs at the base of his dick. Visions of her danced behind his closed eyes as he balled the cardigan and breathed deep the scent of her sweat, her perfumed soap, her body lotion. He could almost feel the heat of her body against him...  
  
With a sudden short cry of ecstasy he finished messily in his boxers.  
  
A very slight relief escaped with his long sigh. Green magic began to roll from his sockets and he angrily shook his head. Carefully, he laid the cardigan over his foot-board while he cleaned his mess in the sink.  
  
He was nearing his heat. Pleasuring himself wasn't going to be enough to get him through the three-day party at Grillby's next week. Soon he feared he woudln't be able to control his own instinctual urges if she decided he had to wait longer, to truly prove himself to her.  
  
Taa looks sideways at his wardrobe. He needed to get a present for his mistress. That would convince her he was worthy of her affections, her attention. Maybe she would even spare him enduring his heat alone. He would have to wait until dark, after work, but maybe he could spy something worthy during his shift.  
  
*  
  
Taa stands in the kitchen of Grillby's, his back to the cold tile wall. He clutches his soul through his shirt as he tries to catch his breath. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to force the surging magic back down.  
  
She had smiled at him from the far end of the bar. Smiled. At him. It was the first sign of her true feelings in weeks. He'd dropped the bottle of wine he'd been handing to a customer when her bright eyes locked with his. It took everything he had to pull himself away from her and pretend it meant nothing on the outside.  
  
He had wanted so desperately to vault over the bar-top and kiss her, tangle his fingers in her hair, caress her soft, hot skin... He stops himself.  
  
This is what she wants. He tells himself. This is what I must endure for her. He breathes deeply through his nose, and exhales slowly through his mouth.  
  
"Damn, Taa, you got it bad for someone, huh?" Minerva asks as she passes through the swinging kitchen door. She was a beautiful ermine, her body long and her movements graceful. Her mostly white fur was dappled with brown as her coat slowly shifted from her winter white to her summer brown and white.  
  
Elegantly she balances a tray stacked with dishes on her shoulder. She walks past Taa and sets the round tray on the shallow end of the massive stainless-steel sink. Minerva rests her weight on a delicate paw gripping the edge of the sink, her other wrist sits on her waist as she smirks back at Taa.  
  
"You're not going to make it to next week with that much magic in your system." She remarks dryly. Taa gulps, the green magic flooding his soul makes it impossible to do much else.  
  
Minerva's eyebrows rise in understanding. "Oh. _Oh,_ they're out there aren't they?"  
  
He nods slowly.  
  
"Oh honey, take the night off. Go get 'em." She says with a wave of her paw.  
  
His eyes snap shut and he rapidly shakes his head, the grip on his soul tightening painfully. The pressure was the only thing keeping him from losing control completely. He had to keep himself under control. Had to.  
  
"Oh, oh no. I'm _so_ sorry, sweetheart." She soothes genuinely, stepping closer. His magic was rolling from him in thick waves. She hadn't had sex since she'd come above-ground, like many of the other monsters. Her body was receptive and needy for his magic, for the connection it would bring them.

"But...I'm certain Grillby would understand if...we both left early tonight." her voice is breathy.  
  
He chances opening his eyes and finds her smile. The hazel of her eyes draw him in and the pressure in his soul begins to fade.  
  
Her smile turns sultry and when she extends a paw toward him, he can't help but take it and let her lead him out of the kitchen through a side hall. It was just like he'd feared, he wasn't going to be able to resist his instinctual urges.  
  
Minerva smells sickly sweet, the thick musk of her chokes Taa. Before he can try to excuse himself she's on him, her paws push him against the wall and she nuzzles her face against his neck. He can feel her sharp teeth rake through his fur and he gives a shuddering wince, he grips her shoulders tight and suddenly his thoughts are clear.  
  
Her fur was so _exquisite._  
  
"Not here," he purrs into her ear.  
  
"Mm, but darling...your heat, your magic is torturing me sweetly."  
  
"Not. Here." he repeats firmly, sliding his fingers to cup her chin, his nails out. He gives her a predatory smile that she easily mistakes for lust. "I don't want anyone to hear you scream." he purrs darkly.  
  
Minerva chuckles and steps back, "Lead the way then," she says.  
  
*  
  
"Hello!" Taa says cheerfully as he approaches the front desk. The man sitting behind a computer stands and smiles back. "Good evening, can I help you?"  
  
Taa chuckles nervously, his tail twitching at his feet. He holds up the carefully wrapped box in his hands with a shy smile. "Uh, well, my girlfriend and I got into a fight. I wanted to leave something for her to apologize."  
  
The man tilts his head slightly, waiting for Taa to say what he wanted.  
  
"The thing is, I left my room key in the penthouse when I went out to get this for her. She's working late, so she won't be back for a while." He says sheepishly, trying and failing to smooth down the fluffy fur between his ears.  
  
_This cheap motel soap still clings to me like the bad perfume of a street whore_ , he thinks angrily without changing his expression.  
  
"Your name?" he asks, pulling up the info on file for the penthouse suite.  
  
"Sans," he replies with a gentle smile.  
  
*  
  
Taa's face is blank, focused, when the elevator stops on the top floor. The doors open into darkness, his eyes quickly adjust to the low light as he steps quietly through the penthouse. He sets the gift-box on the coffee-table, adjusting it just slightly before he turns to the hall.  
  
He smiles manically, his muscles trembling with excitement. He wished he could stay and watch her open it, to see the joy and pride on her face. But he knew he was already breaking some of the rules by just being here.  
  
A spark of rage ignites in his chest as he reaches a paw out to trail along the wall. Shadows dance at the edge of his vision but he ignores them, his full attention on the barely ajar bedroom door at the end of the hall.  
  
His heart hammers in his chest. His blood flows so fast he can hear the rush of it in his ears.  
  
Very, very gently, he places a paw on the bedroom door and pushes it open.  
  
His chest aches with each shallow, controlled breath. His lungs longed to breathe hard, to inhale as much as he could of her scent. Her bedroom was perfumed with a thick, heady, and pheromone-laced smell. It's almost too much for him to handle with any kind of restraint.  
  
Taa takes a moment to collect himself. If he woke her, he'd lose the game, and then he would have to take her. He didn't want to risk that, he wanted her to have her fun before wholly turning herself to him. Taking him to be hers and hers alone.  
  
But he wanted to push his luck, he wanted to see her in her most vulnerable moments, to feel the power in knowing he could have her and she'd never see it coming.  
  
The pulse in his crotch throbs as he silently creeps closer to the bed. When he stands only inches from her, he suddenly knows exactly how sweet her skin tastes. How perfect she felt inside. What her needy, pitiful whimpers sound like beneath him.  
  
She lays on her back, her right leg tangled in the sheets. One arm is thrown over her head, the other rests bent near her face, her fingers curled delicately toward her palms. The steady pulse under her jaw is visible in the soft light of her string lights above her bed. The gentle rise and fall of her chest is mesmerizing to him. She looks like such a fragile creature like this, not at all like the furious, unyielding, terrifying and incredible woman he knew she was.  
  
He ghosts his paw over her bare skin. His eyes start to furrow with the effort to not cup the perfectly shaped breast that spills from her wide-necked shirt; he can't help but to pause over it. His paw slides lower and he shivers at the heat rising from her body.  
  
After watching her for several quiet minutes he turns to leave while he still had the willpower to.  
  
Satin fabric shines on the floor in the low light.  
  
He freezes when he recognizes the fabric as a pair of panties. His eyes widen and he carefully lifts them from the floor, like he was handling a cracking vial of nitro-glycerin.  
  
He slides them into his coat pocket, wanting to savor this beautiful gift alone. She was too good to him, he realizes with a cold shock. He was coming here to apologize and she had expected him to stray again, leaving him a present to find when he did. His paws ball into fists in his coat and leaves just as quietly as he came.

 

 

 


	6. Problematic

You drowsily wake in the middle of the night. With a groan you look for the time on your phone. It was just past the witching hour. You sigh, roll over and quickly fall back asleep, forgetting you ever woke up.  
  
*  
  
With a yawn and a long stretch, you grab your satin robe from the end of the bed and shrug into it. The crop-top barely covering your torso bunches at your neck as you shuffle drowsily to the kitchen.  
  
You start a pot of coffee, searching in the fridge for something that could pass for breakfast. Eventually you decide on a box of leftover Thai take-out and pop it into the microwave. You're still half-asleep when the coffee pot sputters, announcing it was finished brewing.  
  
Mug of coffee in hand, you take a soothing sip as you walk to the couch.  
  
The mug slips from your grip, bouncing quietly on the thick carpet as you stare in quiet shock at the medium-sized gift-wrapped box lying on the coffee table. Had someone from the hotel delivered it while you were sleeping? It was only 9 am, they knew not to come up here that early unless you called. And it wasn't Sunday, the only day you asked them to come up and clean.  
  
Heart pounding, you step into the hot coffee stain as you walk cautiously closer to the box. You can't shake the unsettling feeling it gives you. It's innocently wrapped with shiny red paper with a black ribbon bow tied and taped neatly to the lid.  
  
An irresistible curiosity urges you to reach out a shaking hand to slowly open the box. You slap a hand firmly over your mouth when a loud scream escapes. The lid shifts back and you tightly shut your eyes, turning your head away.  
  
You don't know how long you stand in the quickly cooling puddle of coffee before you force yourself to pull your cell phone from the pocket of your robe. You try to turn your back on the opened box, but your eyes keep being pulled toward it as you dial.  
  
"Nine-one-one, where is your emergency?" a pleasant tenor asks. Your focus is entirely devoted to the coffee table, distantly you hear, "If you can talk to me, I can get emergency services to you. If you're able, talk to me."  
  
"H-hi," you whisper.  
  
"Where is your emergency?" they repeat.  
  
"Home," you reply.  
  
"Where is home, ma'am?"  
  
You blink hard and struggle to think through the hot static in your brain. With a halting voice you give them your address, the floor you're on.  
  
"Okay, I have people on the way. Can you tell me the nature of the emergency?"  
  
A long pause.  
  
"It's okay, I'm right here, you can tell me. Are you or someone else in danger?"  
  
"No," you say, sinking slowly to the floor.  
  
"Okay, good. Are you or anyone else hurt?"  
  
"There's...parts in a box on my coffee table."  
  
"What do you mean by that, ma'am?"  
  
"It was there when I woke up..."  
  
"This is very important, can you get somewhere safe, like a closet or a bathroom?"  
  
Your heart launches into a sickening pace. It takes no urging to get your feet moving beneath you and running for your bathroom. Frantically, you lock the door after realizing it was empty. "In the bathroom." you whisper, searching for something to defend yourself with.  
  
Your eyes land on the towel rod and you rip it one-handed from the wall with three strong tugs. Plaster flies across the tile and you climb into the tub, jerking the curtains closed. "Is someone coming?" you ask quietly.  
  
"Yes, they'll be there soon. Try to stay alert until they arrive, okay? What did you mean by 'parts'?"  
  
"P-pieces. Bloody." you breathe, gripping the rod fiercely like a bat. "Som-something human, something animal."  
  
"I'm glad you got yourself somewhere safe, they're on their way, okay?"  
  
"Ok-okay."  
  
What seems like an impossible stretch of time passes where the operator talks quietly with you, giving small assurances and soothing words every few moments. You jump before freezing in silence when the elevator door in the living room 'dings' happily. "Someone opened the elevator." you tell them, barely breathing.  
  
"Have they said anything?"  
  
Just as you're about to say 'no', a loud _"POLICE!"_ is yelled across your apartment.  
  
"BATHROOM!" you scream back at them.  
  
"I'm staying with you until they get to you, okay? You're doing great."  
  
You can hear many heavy footsteps traipsing through your bedroom before someone tries the door handle. Your vision swims as you crawl out of the tub and haul yourself upright. You unlock the door and step back, dropping your phone as you wield the towel rod with both hands, still not certain it wasn't a trick.  
  
A man in a police uniform and a bullet-proof vest cautiously opens the door, behind him two paramedics hover with concern.  
  
With a near-hysterical laugh of relief, you drop the towel rod, holding a hand to your face as you start to cry.  
  
*  
  
Sans sits beside his brother, across from the king and queen. Undyne sits on his other side, actually wearing something that could be mistaken for modest. A black crop-top covers her usually exposed chest and her high-waisted latex pants cover the rest of her torso. Her wild hair is relatively tamed, piled into a high bun on her head. The king and queen are dressed in their normal attire, the king in armor and the queen in her long dress.  
  
He pointedly avoids Toriel's face, focusing intensely on the table between them when not directly answering a question or adding something to the conversation in a clipped tone.  
  
Papyrus sighs, running a hand over his face.  
  
"Well, other than what the human looked like...with her face and that she was last seen at Grillby's, what else have the police shared with us?" Undyne asks with a concerned impatience.  
  
Papyrus looks at his lieutenant through narrowed eyes. "They've just begun their investigations, the fact that they let us know anything is a miracle in and of itself." he snaps.  
  
"They haven't told us anything that wasn't on the news already." Sans adds with a shrug. "And the human had a name, Undyne."  
  
She rolls her eye with a short huff. "Yeah, but..." her sentence trails off and Sans' brief anger dies.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Alphonsa was definitely a name that hit close to home with Undyne, he was stupid to forget that. "Sorry, just frustrated with this whole mess." He can't help but glance at Toriel while he speaks. Her red eyes meet his and she looks away with a calm blink.  
  
"This thing happens a lot in this city. It's always humans killing other humans, why do they want to pin this on a monster?" Undyne asks for the third time.  
  
Sans and Papyrus groan in unison.  
  
"Jeeze, sorry. It just seems like they've been really trying to put a monster away lately."  
  
"That may be true, but we will not get anywhere unless we provide as much assistance as we can to the human police. If we want to co-exist peacefully here, we have to abide by the majority rules and order." Asgore rumbles with certainty.  
  
"And again, Undyne, they found traces of magic left behind."  
  
"But who would kill someone with magic? Why wouldn't they just kill them with a weapon and then dump the body somewhere else so they wouldn't get caught?"  
  
"Because people get scared and make mistakes."  
  
"Sans, you're awful cozy at Grillby's, anyone you think could've done it?"  
  
He thinks for a few seconds. Only one face pops up, but he shakes it off. He was just being biased because he didn't like him. Well, actually he hated him, but that made him even more cautious about putting the blame on him. "I can't think of anyone, but I'll keep my eyes open." he lies convincingly.  
  
For what felt like the hundredth time, his phone rings in his pocket. It vibrates quietly and he adjusts his weight in the wrought iron chair, daring to take a sip of his untouched tea.  
  
The others look back at him.  
  
"Perhaps you should answer that? You are certainly welcome to." Asgore tells Sans with a little concern.  
  
Sans closes his eyes as he pauses before setting his mug back down. His phone was buzzing again. With a small, frustrated smile, he tips his skull toward the king and queen, who do the same as he stands. He pulls his phone from his pocket as he makes his way to the golden hall attached to the castle.  
  
It was his Kitten. He frowns. She knew he was at work, that it was important. The call ends and his sockets rise as his phone buzzes, telling him she'd called twenty-three times in a row.  
  
He quickly fumbles with the cell and calls her back, his heart beating faster in his chest. Before he can even ask what was wrong, there was sobbing from the other line. "S-Sans! I ne-need you, please! Please! I'm at my place. I'm so scared."  
  
In the background he can hear indistinct talking. He knows he shouldn't teleport to her room, but he at least can teleport to the elevator.  
  
*  
  
The elevator stops at her penthouse. He clenches and un-clenches his fists to work out some of his anxious energy. The doors open and he's immediately stopped by a human police officer holding her hand out.  
  
Sans manages to choke back the growl in his throat.  
  
She eyes him suspiciously. "Your ID?" she asks turning her hand over with her palm facing up expectantly. He jerks his wallet out of his pocket, trying to see into the penthouse behind her. There's six or more cops wandering through the living room. Someone is taking pictures.  
  
He hands over the ID the humans gave every monster after they came out of Mount Ebott. It had his full name: Comic Sans Serif, age: 28, and his monster "type": Skeleton, and a short list of his abilities. Karmic vision, bone attacks, blue magic.  
  
She looks it over carefully, flipping it to the back where it had his height: 6'11'', weight: 342 and emergency contacts, as well as the number for the king's secretary.  
  
Sans can't see her, his Kitten, anywhere. He's getting obviously restless as the cop inspects the front of his ID again. "I'm holding on to this, come find me before you leave and I'll give it back."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, fine. Where is she?"  
  
She narrows her eyes suspiciously and Sans realizes for the first time that she'd had her hand on the gun at her hip the entire time.  
  
He tries to calm his posture, "Look, she's been callin' me non-stop. I'm sure you were expecting me. Now, please, where is she?"  
  
"Bedroom." she replies, holding her hand out again to physically stop him. This time he has to close his eyes to keep from losing his shit. To her credit, she doesn't flinch when he looks down at her with empty sockets. He can see that it's in her character to stand her ground. She was more innocent than most humans he met, even though she'd killed two people.  
  
"Don't touch anything in the living room, stay on the plastic." she tells him calmly before lowering her voice, tilting her head so the others couldn't make out what she was about to tell him. "She had a ribbon-tied package with... a woman's lips and genitals inside on her coffee table. And a still-bloody bundle of fur."  
  
His eyes widen in horror.  
  
"Any monsters reported missing?"  
  
Sans pulls himself out of his shock and shakes his head. "N-not that we know of. Fuck." He runs a hand nervously over his skull. For a rare moment, Sans is at a loss for words. "I-I...holy fuck." He takes a step back, his skin flushing cold.  
  
"Where were you on the night of Thursday the 14th?"  
  
"W-with her. I performed at Grillby's club, then we went out to eat at uh... uh," he closes his sockets, struggling to remember the name of the bar they ate at. " _Is-Isodora's Pint,_ down by sixth street."  
  
She pulls out a notebook and starts taking notes, asking him for the exact address. "Remember who was working that night?"  
  
He gives a dry laugh. "No, but I doubt they forgot about me."  
  
She looks back up at him severely. "I'm a seven-foot skeleton, I stand out." he explains. She nods. "Then we went to my apartment, the Turner Building, apartment number 2013."  
  
"Anyone to corroborate that?"  
  
"My brother. He was home when we got in. She fell going up the stairs and woke him up."  
  
"His name?"  
  
Jesus, he just wanted to go check on Kitten. "Papyrus Serif, he doesn't have a middle name."  
  
"Okay, that should be enough for now. I'll get his number from your card." With that, she finally steps out of the way and he rushes past her to the bedroom, only happening to stay on the plastic covering the carpet by chance.  
  
A young woman with tightly curling brown hair sits on the bed beside his Kitten. Her arm is wrapped around her shoulders. His Kitten sits with her head in her hands, her legs crossed on the bed. She leans over her lap, several blankets resting loosely over her.  
  
"I-I'm here." He says, quickly crossing the distance between them. Her head jerks up and his soul aches at the puffiness of her eyes and the tear-streaks down her cheeks. She jumps from the bed and into his arms, holding him fiercely.  
  
"I walked into the living room this morning and there it was. They were here while I was sleeping, Sans. "  
  
His grip on her tightens, his jaw clenches as he shuts his sockets, leaning his skull into her. When he opens his sockets, the woman still sitting on the bed mimes putting a hand on the back of her neck. Sans slides one of his hands to her neck and she burrows herself deeper into his chest, her grip relaxing slightly.  
  
He manages a short smile of relief and she gives one in reply.  
  
***  
  
Sans stands inside the living room of his Kitten's human friend, Kathy. He was trying very hard to be comfortable with her staying here instead of with him, but he kept reminding himself she'd known Kathy longer.  
  
He couldn't shake the overwhelming urge to keep her in his sight. He wanted to protect her. But...he wouldn't be able to help with the investigation and keep her company for the next few days. Not without dragging her through all the gruesome details and upsetting her even more.  
  
Kathy brings him a cup of coffee and smiles weakly as she sits in an armchair with a mug of her own. Kitten was taking a shower and again, he couldn't help wanting to be there with her. Not that he'd ever admit it, but he needed the intimate comfort of holding her close as much as she did.  
  
Finally, Sans sits on the couch. It groans under his weight, "Oh, that side has a broken spring. Sorry, slipped my mind." He stands again, thankfully before sitting fully, and slides to the other end of the couch.  
  
He can't find anything wrong with Kathy. He'd been studying her pretty intensely since he first saw her, but nothing was off. She had a LV of 0, which was very rare even for humans. Especially adults. He could sense a kindred spirit in her, but that wasn't exactly comforting.  
  
"I had stalker in high school. He was my history teacher." Sans' glances at Kathy in surprise, the rim of his mug resting against his bottom lip. Her thumbs stroke the sides of her mug absentmindedly, her eyes distant.  
  
"He was about twenty years older than me. I'd slept with him twice but decided I wasn't proud of it, so I tried to break things off. He said he was going to leave his wife for me and he just got more and more desperate. He started threatening me, started leaving me letters in my bedroom." She scoffs quietly. "I never told my parents. I took him back just so he would calm down and I ran away when I was nineteen."  
  
Sans stares back at her in quiet shock.  
  
Kathy's eyes focus again and she sips her coffee before she looks back at Sans. "She's one of the few people who know a bit about my past. Could be why she wanted to stay with me instead. But it wouldn't have hurt for you to at least offer for her to stay with you." She lightly scolds him with a smirk.  
  
"I-I," he clears his throat before taking a drink himself. "I could be involved with the investigation. Th...there might be a missing monster in this. She probably doesn't want to be around all that right now."  
  
Kathy's teasing smile fades and she nods knowingly.  
  
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You..." she tilts her head a little as she looks back at him. "You seem like you'd be the kind of Dom that would want to know that kind of thing. I think I just spilled that on you out of habit."  
  
He laughs, feeling a little more at ease. At least briefly. "Can read people pretty good, huh?"  
  
She nods again, her smile gentle. "Survival technique."  
  
A small chill runs through his veins, but he manages not to freeze as he takes another drink of coffee. "Birds of a feather... I see it on you, too."  
  
"I see why you two are friends."  
  
Kathy chuckles. "You and her have a way of making me relax. I wouldn't be surprsied if you've heard that before."  
  
Before he can respond the sound of a cabinet quietly closing makes them both turn to the kitchen behind them. Kitten is pouring herself coffee too. "Hey, Prancer, have a nice shower?"  
  
Sans smiles at the clever nick-name but it fades when Kitten only gives a quiet shrug. She turns and looks completely drained. She forces a small smile. "I'll feel better in a few days...probably."  
  
Sans groans quietly, closing his eyes as his cell phone begins to vibrate against his thigh. He sets his mug on the coffee table as he pulls the cell free. As he expected, it was his brother.  
  
"Yeah?" he asks gruffly.  
  
"I'm afraid your presence is needed."  
  
"Yeah." he replies, defeated. "Where?"  
  
"Grillby's."  
  
He opens his eyes, ending the call as he looks at the two women. "There's a lead on one of the cases. God, that makes me sound like a terrible TV detective." The sarcasm earns him a genuine smile from his Kitten. It makes his heart quicken.  
  
"Anyway, you two have my number. And I'll answer immediately if one of you calls, okay?" He shoves himself upright with his palms against his knees. He walks around the side of the couch to embrace Kitten, but she stops him with a broad smile. "Not supposed to touch, remember?"  
  
He gives a scoffing laugh in surprise. She had to be feeling better if she brought that up. He lets his arms drop by his sides with another laugh. "All right, but let me know how you're doing later, okay? I can bring dinner or something."  
  
"Sure," she nods, blinking slowly.  
  
He turns to the door after giving a short wave to Kathy who nods back. He stops before shutting the door behind him, smiling wide as he peeks back into the living room. "Love you, Kitten."  
  
He shuts the door, focusing on the blush he'd left burning on her cheeks.  
  
He teleports into the bathroom of Grillby's and the brief elation dies as he shoves the door open and walks into the bar. He walks down the hall before he reaches the wide open expanse of the main bar.  
  
Human cops mill around the dance floor, some question performers in groups or individually. He sees Papyrus talking with a few police officers in plain clothes. They stop their conversation when they notice Sans walking toward them.  
  
Papyrus glances at his brother nervously, he glances between the cops and Sans several times before he holds up his hands, palms facing them and says something Sans can't hear. The two cops seem frustrated by one does a sarcastic "after-you" gesture.  
  
Papyrus quickly strides across the bar toward Sans who's stopped in his tracks. "What's going on?" Sans asks, suspiciously looking back at the cops staring him down angrily.  
  
"The human police are here to uh, talk to you."  
  
"That's not what their auras are tellin' me." Sans replies, looking back at his taller brother. One cop had a LV of 5 the other 7. He didn't look long enough to figure out if it was deaths inflicted or violence inflicted that pushed their numbers so high.  
  
"It would be best to cooperate. Please, stay calm."  
  
Sans' pupils vanish in realization. "They're going to detain me."  
  
"Brother," Papyrus warns gently. "This is how their legal system works. They don't have someone like you. They have to do things like we did before you were hired by the King. Even we have to chase dead ends at times."  
  
Sans closes his eyes and takes a slow breath. "Okay, okay. Don't worry, bro, I got this."  
  
The stress in Papyrus' shoulders lessens a few centimeters.  
  
Sans walks casually around his brother and toward the cops with an easy smile. "Need to cuff me?" He asks them quietly.  
  
The LV 5 glances at the LV 7. 7 was older than 5, he didn't seem very trusting. "Not if you come with us willingly."  
  
Sans bites his tongue to stop the sarcasm from spewing out. "Of course, officer." he replies, his tone clipped.  


  
****

 

  
Bonus Scene: I'll Sleep When I'm Dead  
  
  
Taa watches near the stage, pausing his sentence as he notices Sans leaving with two of the detectives he had to talk to earlier. "So-sorry, uh, are they taking him somewhere?" He gestures to the front door as the trio disappears, one of the detectives gripping Sans' bicep tightly as he urges him through the door.  
  
"Uh, looks like it. But we really just want cooperation here, we all want the same thing."  
  
Taa doesn't struggle to hide his excitement, he'd been getting much better at picking which emotions he showed.  
  
"Of course. I um, I spoke with those detectives earlier. Th-they don't think Sans has anything to do with Minerva missing, do they?" he asks, false anxiety bleeding into his words.  
  
"We were talking about the night before last, you said you said you had sex with Minerva?"  
  
"Um, y-yes." he lied, "We went to a motel, uh, we both live here and didn't want to get caught leaving work. We stayed in room 8 at the Candlelight."  
  
"Yes, I've got that so far."  
  
"Right, well, we had our fun and I wanted to get something to eat but she said she wasn't hungry. So, I assumed she came back here."  
  
"Where did you go?"  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"Where did you go to eat?"  
  
"Oh! Some dive bar that was on the way back. I don't remember the name. But uh, the street was a number. 5th street? 6th street? Some place called something Pint."  
  
*  
  
Taa sat quietly in the corner of the sandwich shop across the street from the Turner Building apartments. He'd followed Papyrus home a few weeks ago and knew this was where he lived with his brother.  
  
He scans the dark street with his keen eyes, waiting for the older skeleton brother to return home. He pretends to read a thick book he'd borrowed from Theodora, the tall, strong, albino bunny and best performer at Grillby's. If Sans' band played the same night as her dancing this week, Grillby would make a fortune.  
  
Every few minutes he remembers the food he'd ordered. He'd picked apart the sandwich in layers. Eating the bread first with his tea, then carefully pulling the stacked and sliced cold-cuts. He rolled them into little tubes and ate them delicately...  
  
He peels another cut of meat off his sandwich and rolls it before setting his book down and eating several pieces in a row. He can't help but think the meat would be better hot. Some savory, deep red sauce between the slices.  
  
His stomach growls as he remembers how delicious that slut's face had been. It reminded him of peeling the top layer of cheese from a pizza and spilling the sauce everywhere. Only immeasurably better.  
  
Taa sips his tea, his tail whipping back and forth in agitation. He keeps his face carefully blank as he continues to eat before finally finishing his plate. He pays for his tea and food and resumes pretending to read his book.  
  
About two hours before the shop closes, he sees a black SUV pull in front of the Turner Building. A pale skull peeks over the roof of the car as they exit from the opposite side, the side facing the front entrance. The SUV pulls away and Taa smiles smugly to himself.  
  
Only Papyrus walks into the building.   
  
Sans was spending the night comfortably in jail.   
  
Perfect.  
  
He closes his book with finality and leaves the shop. Now it was time to stake-out the police station.  
  
*  
  
There was no nearby shop or bar open this late by the police station. He'd overheard Grillby ask one of the cops what precinct they were with, which saved him from trying to tail a cop. His thick fur kept him warm as he smoked behind a dumpster in an alley caddy-corner from the stations entrance. The coat with its collar flipped up didn't hurt either.  
  
He kept his tail wrapped around his waist and had tied a black scarf around his head to hide his ears. Plain aviator sunglasses would keep anyone from spotting his eyes in the dark, and his dappled black and tabby fur blended in perfectly with the urban environment.  
  
He was basically invisible.  
  
Well, except for the cigarette ember. But he had to do something while he waited or he'd end up losing focus and getting taken away by a street-walker or drug-addict in need of cash. Then he'd have to kill them and it would completely ruin his plan. No one could die while Sans was in jail.  
  
After waiting until early afternoon of the next day, Taa has to force himself to leave. They were keeping Sans longer than he expected. He tried to see it as a good thing, but that just meant he had to leave sooner than he wanted to keep up appearances.  
  



	7. Demons

Sans paces slowly in the plain pale-green concrete room. A table with a pitcher of water and four glasses sat in the middle of the room. A long-cold cup of coffee was sitting in front of the only chair that was pulled back.  
  
They relieved him of his cell phone and left a camera rolling in the corner of the room in case he tried to use magic to escape. He'd been in the room for at least six hours, but he knew they could hold him longer without arresting him or pressing charges.  
  
Alphys had said they could hold some people, legally anyway, for up to 96 hours if they were suspected of something like murder. Which is what Sans was pretty sure they were going to try to stick him with.  
  
A relatively high-profile monster, close to the royal family, close to an ongoing investigation... Ugh, the kid was going to hate this. He just hoped they didn't push things too far. He couldn't seem to find a ripple or shadow of any of this happening to him before. So, either something was very, very wrong, or they'd kept their promise and this was the furthest the world had gone in a long time.  
  
Sans yawned widely before sitting on the concrete with his back pressed against the wall facing the door. He'd slept on similar or worse before then, he wasn't going to let that get in the way of a decent nap.  
  
He sleeps for about a few hours before a perky officer opened the thick metal door to the room. She was carrying a large brown bag and two small bottles of soda. "Hey, hungry?" she asks with a smile.  
  
Sans blinks awake and stretches as he stands up. He could smell the anxiety sweating from her pores, her face remained cheery even as she gulped nervously seeing him at his full height. "Starved. What do you got there?" he asked softly, casually stepping closer and sitting at the table.  
  
"Uh, well we weren't really sure what you could eat, so we asked the cooks at Grillby's to make you something."  
  
He could sense the lie, like a gentle ripple of smoke. Were they just trying to get him comfortable so he'd slip up? Trying good cop first?  
  
He chuckles. "I guess my brother already talked to someone here, then." he says, realizing now why they sent in someone so outwardly non-threatening. And why they took the time to get semi-magical food.  
  
"Uh, y-yes." she replies, finally sitting down across from him. "He said you..."  
  
"Have a condition? Yeah, he worries too much. Hope he didn't put you guys through too much trouble."  
  
"We just had a rookie do the leg-work." She jokes lightly and Sans smiles back at her.  
  
"How long have I been here?"  
  
"About twelve hours."  
  
That meant he'd slept for at least six hours, slumped on the floor. That was probably unusual.  
  
"I think you already know my name, what's yours?" Sans asks conversationally as she starts to pull boxed food from the bag.  
  
"Stacey."  
  
"Well, Stacey, who did you piss off to get stuck with lunch-duty?"  
  
She laughs as she sets the empty bag on the floor. Her LV was a 2, average for the humans he'd met. "I volunteered actually."  
  
"Ooh, anxious to meet a caged monster?" Sans teases, curiously opening a box. His mouth waters instantly at the sight of Grillby's signature burger. Triple meat patties, cheese between each layer, fried onion strings, thick sliced bacon topped with a pretzel bun.  
  
"Actually, yes."  
  
Sans is too distracted by the smell of his burger to follow-up with a response. He sighs as he happily chews his magic-laced food. He can feel the soothing prickle of magic already in his veins and a tension he hadn't realized he felt leaves him.  
  
He notices Stacey staring back at him curiously. "So, what's the interest with monsters?" He asks lightly, taking a drink of his coke.  
  
"W-well," she glances away, clearing her throat. "Honestly, haven't been brave enough to go up and talk to one. Don't get me wrong, you all seem like normal citizens, it's just... a lot to take in."  
  
"Hey, some of us are still pretty nervous around humans, too." he lies with a shrug before taking a massive bite of his burger. Stacey starts to graze on the second order of fries, hers were covered in chili and cheese. "What can I do to speed this whole process along?" he asks.  
  
Stacey gives a long sigh, unzipping her jacket. Sans notices the badge resting on the inside pocket opposite her holstered pistol. And also the swell of her breasts against her skin-tight camisole.  
  
He looks away before she notices and feels guilty about it.  
  
She shrugs, taking another bite of her chili fries. "Really, it's just paperwork they're pushing around out there. They'll come in when they feel like it, there's not much you can do about it."  
  
"Yeah, I figured. But I was hoping I was wrong. Still, free food, decent company, quiet nap. Can't complain too much I guess."  
  
Stacey snorts.  
  
They talk back and forth about pop-culture before they land on the topic of music. She admits to her love of heavy metal and Sans invites her to come watch his band at Grillby's sometime, just not this week. He lies and tells her he's not playing this week so he doesn't have to explain the MMHP event.  
  
Just as she's about to ask what songs they perform, the door opens and 5 and 7 from earlier walk in.  
  
"All right Jimenez, we'll take it from here." 5 says with unneeded ice.  
  
"Yeah, sure." She glances back at Sans over 7's shoulder and gives him a wink. He can't help but smirk.  
  
5 is holding a folder, flipping through pages as he walks slowly to the table. Sans takes a drink of his soda, eye sockets raised in anticipation of questions. 7 shuts the door and walks around 5 to sit across from Sans.  
  
"Have you ever seen this woman?" 5 remains standing and slides a photo across the metal table.  
  
"Yeah, that's Alphonsa Uzevchok. I've seen her picture hundreds of times this week. I work for the monster royal family and one of the precincts asked for our help because they think a monster killed her."  
  
"I meant in person."  
  
Sans shrugs. "No idea."  
  
"She was said to frequent the bar your uh, band performs at. And the owner said you're quite the regular."  
  
Sans shrugs again, less enthusiastically this time. "It's a popular place. We're a popular group there. I've never talked to her, I can tell you that much."  
  
"And where were you the night of the fourteenth?"  
  
Sans remembered being asked this at his Kitten's penthouse. "I did a gig with my band and took my girlfriend on our first date. We went to a place called Isadora's Pint on 6th street and then we went back to my place, the Turner Building. We were drunk enough that she tripped up the stairs and woke up my brother."  
  
"That sounds awful rehearsed." 7 remarked.  
  
"And didn't your girlfriend get a disturbing package? With body parts matching missing women? Strange coincidence if you ask me." 5 said with narrow eyes.  
  
"Very strange." 7 added.  
  
"It might sound rehearsed because I've explained that night a few times already to other cops." Sans replied, trying and succeeding in keeping his voice calm.  
  
"Hmph, what about two nights ago?"  
  
"I was working late with my brother and the lieutenant of the royal guard, trying to help with the Uzevchok case."  
  
"What time did you head home?"  
  
"I don't know, uh, two-four am? Ask my brother, he's better at remembering stuff like that."  
  
"Expecting your little brother to rescue you, is that it? How noble."  
  
Sans was starting to get frustrated. "No, I'm just shit with time-keeping."  
  
"You don't seem so shit about your recollection of the night Alphonsa went missing."  
  
Sans can't help but smile in spite of the tense banter. "It was a pretty great night, of course I remember it."  
  
"So you say you went home around two or four."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I said."  
  
"Then why did the hotel where your girlfriend lives report you getting an extra key to her room and dropping off a present? At around three am?"  
  
"What?" Sans asked in cold shock.  
  
5 handed him a photocopy of a spreadsheet. It was time-stamped 3:07am, and read Sans (boyfriend) requested extra key to penthouse suite to drop off present. Name on approved list.  
  
"That's not possible, I wasn't there."  
  
"Hm," 7 hummed.  
  
"Hm." 5 added.  
  
"The security footage is strangely missing. As is the doorman who worked that night."  
  
Sans swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He closed his eyes for a second before looking back at them. "My apartment building has cameras too, you could check those to see when I got home." Thank God I was with Papyrus that night and didn't just teleport back. Sans thought.  
  
"We'll be corroborating that."  
  
"Please do," Sans replied as 7 stood.  
  
5 and 7 left and Sans stared quietly at the metal table, struggling not to show the stress that was beginning to build. Sure, if things went too far south he could just live underground again...but that wasn't what he wanted to do. He spent so much of his life...and resets down there, he didn't to give up surface life.  
  
Someone was either trying to frame him or just get the heat off them. Either way, Sans was going to figure out who and make them deeply regret it.  
  
*  
  
A few more hours tick by before a familiar face pokes into the room. Stacey, the officer from earlier smiles brightly at him. "Hey, they saw you on the security footage at your apartment." She steps inside and 5 follows after her, still stern-faced.  
  
"Then I'm free to go?"  
  
"Not yet," 5 tells him. "You're shown walking into your building at 2:49am and on your floor at 2:53am, no way you could've been two places at once. But, know anyone that would want to fuck you over?"  
  
Sans almost laughs at his choice of words. "No one..." he suddenly remembers the night he threatened that cat outside Grillby's.  
  
"What? Even if it's a dead-end, we still gotta try it."  
  
"Taa. A cat that works at Grillby's. He freaked-out my girlfriend a few weeks ago and he's been kind of... I can't put a word to it. He's just been weird around her."  
  
"Freaked her out how?" Stacey asks as 5 pulls out a notebook and starts writing.  
  
"She was outside waiting for a cab and he came over and talked to her. She told him to back off, she's run into him before and doesn't like him, and he wouldn't. I came outside to see him putting his coat on her and she got pretty upset because he touched her."  
  
Neither of the officers said he was crazy and that made him feel a little better about his misgivings around the bizarre cat. "It's probably nothing, but-"  
  
"Hey, it's a small connection, maybe it is nothing, but maybe it isn't." Stacey interrupted him with a shrug.  
  
There's a long moment of silence as 5 continues to jot things down. "So... what does this all mean for me?"  
  
"Hm?" 5 looks up at him.  
  
"I mean, can I still work on the missing persons' cases, or am I still a suspect?"  
  
"No, you'll be off the cases. And yes, you're still a suspect. We just can't charge you with anything today." Stacey answers.  
  
"Sure are chipper about it."  
  
She chuckles with a care-free shrug. "It is what it is."  
  
"What about when my name is cleared?"  
  
"Sure are confident about that." 5 remarks.  
  
"Well, yeah, because I didn't hurt anybody or do anything wrong." Sans replies snarkily.  
  
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, for now, you're free to go. But don't leave the city, we'll probably need you for more questioning."  
  
Like I've got anywhere else to go...  
  
*  
  
Sans convinces you to come stay at his place now that he's not going to be working on the missing persons cases anymore. It doesn't take much for you to agree. While you loved Kathy as a friend, she was a little bit of a neat-freak and her constant cleaning or picking up after you (before you even got a chance to do it yourself) was already starting to drive you crazy.  
  
It's the second day after Sans was released from the police station. You had to answer some more questions yourself yesterday. You and Papyrus were his alibi for the night the human woman went missing. For the night that Minerva went missing, Papyrus and security cameras were his alibi.  
  
You just knew Sans had nothing to do with the missing people. And while you didn't understand what was happening, you were also starting to adjust to the idea that someone unsafe was interested in you in the worst way. Not accept, but adjust.  
  
You willingly took the taser-gun that the royal guard first lieutenant gave you. Her name was Undyne, and she looked like she didn't take shit from anyone. She was a fish-monster with wild red hair, shark-teeth and was missing her left eye.  
  
You instantly liked her.  
  
She showed you how to use the taser up-close in case you didn't have enough distance between you and whoever might attack you.  
  
Sans gave you something called an "ASP". It was a two and a half foot collapsible baton. While collapsed it was only six inches long, it only took a swift flick of your wrist to extend it fully. You liked the weight of it in your hand and the wrist-band that came with it meant it couldn't be easily taken away from you.  
  
With the baton and the taser-gun you felt somewhat prepared in the event of someone trying to kidnap you. You'd taken a few self-defense classes, but you weren't good at running away. Your instructors tried to remind you that you weren't there to fight the bad guy, you were there to learn to get away. But, it felt so right to stand your ground.  
  
In a life-or-death situation though, you like to think that you'd run the first chance you got.  
  
You look over at Sans on the far side of the couch and ask what's been on your mind all evening. "Am I allowed to go to the MMHP tomorrow?"  
  
He glances at you in shocked disbelief. "Why wouldn't you be?"  
  
"Because I'm human."  
  
"Nah, you're there a lot, Doggo would let you in. Do you want to go?"  
  
You shrug. "It'd be better than hanging out here all alone." You'd convinced Sans to still perform with his band at Grillby's. It was too big of a night for them to miss. And while the monsters were still upset about Minerva missing, biology was still urging them toward their own needs.  
  
Sans grimaces and you frown back at him, knowing what he was going to say next. He shakes his head, "Nope, I'm staying here. Everyone will understand. If you don't want to be alone, I'm not going."  
  
"Sans..." You whine. With a grumpy shrug you look away from him, hugging your arms to your sides. "I...maybe I just want to get out and pretend things are normal for a little bit."  
  
Sans sighs, leaning back into the couch. "Things aren't normal though, and it could be dangerous to act like they are!"  
  
You prickle at the truth in his words, burrowing deeper into the couch cushions and hugging yourself tighter. Grumbling under your breath, you start to think of counter-arguments...but come up with nothing.  
  
He starts to reach for you but hesitates noticeably and your eyes slide back to him with a small smile. "For what you do, you're pretty bad at lying."  
  
"Only around you." he sighs. You draw your legs up tight against your chest and he smiles tiredly back at you in understanding. "Look, I know this is awful. But...we're going to find this crazy fucker and then we'll do..." his voice trails off and you tilt your head expectantly at him.  
  
He shrugs with a chuckle. "I dunno, but we'll do something that can make up for all this."  
  
*  
  
During a take-out dinner that night you decide to voice an idea you had. "I think I'm going to go out of town for a few days." Sans glances at you, swallowing his food hard with deep concern wrinkling his eye sockets.  
  
"Alone." You add firmly.  
  
"What?"  
  
You poke at your food, moving it idly around your plate with a shrug. "No, it'll be great. I can get away from the danger and you can still perform with your band. I've been wanting to get out of the city for a while anyway."  
  
"Uh..." Sans stares blankly back at you.  
  
"You won't have to worry, I'll go to my uncle's old hunting lodge. There's lots of guns there I can use if I need to. Big, solid doors and an electric fence to keep the bears away. I'll be just fine." Words spill and you wonder who you were really trying to convince.  
  
"Are...you sure?"  
  
You nod, "Yeah, yeah, it'll be good for me. I can clear my head and just relax for a bit." You smile back at him and slowly he pushes away most of his unease.  
  
"Is there cell service up there?"  
  
You shake your head, "No, but I've got a land-line in case of emergencies." You don't bother trying to reassure him of your safety, he was going to be uncomfortable with the idea regardless. And as meaningful as this relationship was becoming, you were nowhere near the level of needing his complete approval to do something or risk a break-up. At this point you two were still feeling out each others boundaries and determining if this was the real deal or not.  
  
"Well... I don't like it, but you're your own person. But I really don't like it. Would you at least take someone with you?"  
  
You shake your head. "No."  
  
"But I thought you didn't want to be alone?"  
  
"I don't want to be alone here."  
  
Sans sighs, running a hand over his face. "Would you...mind letting me know when you get there? And um, maybe call me every now and then to check-in?"  
  
You chuckle good-naturedly. "Of course I don't mind."  
  
*  
  
You stand on the back porch of the massive log-cabin lodge. This far in the mountains the finger-tip grip of winter kept the temperature in the low forty's. There was even snow in the forecast later in the week.  
  
All tension has left your bones and you sigh happily as you lean against the smooth wooden railing. You stare down the steep slope that leads into the valley and lake miles below. Dense forest surrounds the lodge on it's other three sides. The road leading down to it winds and twists through the trees until the lodge just appears.  
  
It was a breath-taking piece of land and you loved it dearly. There were many seasons you'd spent here with your family and with the bittersweet memories also came a peace you felt no where else.  
  
It was the reason you only visited alone. You didn't want to lose or taint the feelings this place conjured. Alone, you could control what memories surfaced and could remember them uninterrupted. You feared if someone came with you, it would never be the same.  
  
You'd called Sans soon after you got settled and unpacked. He still wasn't okay with your solitude, but you were glad he respected your decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the late update, I've been literally from one end of the country to the next (California to Tennessee) in the past month and a half. Between being too busy to find my butt with both hands and too tired to think straight I haven't got much writing done. Also, let me know if something sounds weird in this chapter because I tried to rush it...


	8. Voodoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, just to clear up some potential problems reading this chapter. if something is in italics with quotations around it, it's a response on a phone call.
> 
> if several sentences are italicized in a row, it's a small flashback. 
> 
> if there's an asterisk in front of italics, it's someone's thoughts.
> 
> I hope that makes it easier to understand!
> 
> *********************************************

Sans picks up his phone half-way through the first ring.  
  
_"Kitten? Everything okay?"_  
  
You can't help but smile at the concern in his voice. Guilt follows, knowing you were doing this to him. You push it away with a long sip of your drink, sinking deeper into the couch cushions in front of the crackling fire just a few feet from you.  
  
_"Kitten?"_ he repeats, his voice going soft with fear.  
  
"Shit, sorry! Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Everything's fine."  
  
You hear him sigh deeply on the other line. _"Good... but why'd you call? I thought you were only going to call if there was an emergency?"_  
  
You chew your bottom lip and finish your drink. "Yeah but, I started drinking... and I don't have internet out here..."  
  
Sans scoffs, but you hear the smile in his voice, _"Yo-you're horny?"_  
  
A blush burns your cheeks and you purse your lips in embarrassment. "Hey! You don't have to say it like that!"  
  
He laughs genuinely on the other line. _"So, you're alone, horny, drunk and can't watch porn. This is a literal booty call?"_  
  
You snicker into the phone. "Are you turning me down? There's no touching with phone sex..."  
  
There's a long pause and you pour more of your dad's moonshine into your glass. You swirl the clear liquid after dropping a few cherries into it. "You just finished the second night of the party at Grillby's. I'm sure seeing all those lovely monsters perform to your sexy-ass voice has gotta be doin' something to you..."  
  
_"Mm, babe you have no idea._ " he growls quietly into your ear. A shiver runs down your spine and you lick your lips, closing your eyes. "Tell me about it," you purr.  
  
_"You ever been around a monster in heat?"_  
  
"Uh-uh," you say with a shake of your head.  
  
There's a crackle of static before he continues. _"Sorry, just got home. Oof...the best I could explain it to you as a human..."_  
  
You press the phone hard against your face, quickly eating a liquor-soaked cherry. The bitter sting of the moonshine barley registers on your numb tongue.  
  
_"You know how people, monsters too, make mistakes while drinking? Like, realizing you've slept with your best friends' ex? Well, think of that state of mind only twice as intoxicating and everyone is like that."_  
  
"Oh," you reply simply.  
  
_"Yeah. And the longer it's been for someone since they've had sex, the more intense a party like this is. That's why we have them every few months, so people don't get too weird and crazy."_  
  
Guilt clenches tight in your chest. "I-is that what I've been doing to you?" you ask in quiet horror.  
  
_"What? No, no, no. I'm fine. A lot of us can choose when we go into heat. It's just harder to resist for younger monsters and those that...uh...yeah."_  
  
"Those that what?"  
  
_"Those that aren't um..."_ his voice was getting softer, more unsure. _"with somebody already."_  
  
You smile sweetly, "Aww, you mean two monsters in a relationship will only go into heat with their partner? That's fuckin' adorable!"  
  
_"Yeah,"_ Sans replies, the word soaked in embarrassment.  
  
"You're home, right? In your room?" you ask, struggling not to slur your words.  
  
_"Yup,"_ he sighs.  
  
You stand, taking your drink to your bedroom with a smooth sway in your hips. "Well," you say slowly. "I'm pulling off my robe in my room. And I'm only wearing a pair of red silk panties underneath."  
  
_"O-oh,"_ his voice cracks.  
  
You chuckle warmly as you pull back the covers of your bed. "I'm sliding into bed, how do you want me?"  
  
" _On your back,"_ his words are thick and your face burns as you imagine him closing his eyes to imagine you beneath him.  
  
"But I can't suck your dick on my back..." you tease.  
  
_"I'm too impatient for a blow-job right now."_ he growls.  
  
"No foreplay? Not even if I licked up your thighs, spread your legs so I could sit between them, and started kissing your dick over your shorts?" You can just barely hear his breathing quicken. You lick your lips, settling on the pillows behind you as you start to describe the scene playing in your head.  
  
"I'd stroke you gently around your clothes just to piss you off..."  
  
_"When I couldn't take it anymore, I'd pull my cock out for you. I'd-"_  
  
"You'd grab the back of my head and try to force your dick down my throat."  
  
_"Nah, I'd let you get used to the sight of it first. I saw how long you stared at me when I was naked after the shower that morning."_  
  
The thought of his dick so close to your face does make you realize you'd want to stare at it before you wanted it in your mouth. "I'd kiss the tip before running my tongue around it and pulling it past my lips..."  
  
_"Fuck...tease me all you want Kitten."_  
  
Pride blooms in your chest and you shift your weight in bed. "I'd bob slowly on the head for a while. One of my hands would cup your balls, the other would sit at the base, slowly gripping the shaft."  
  
_"Ohh,"_ he lightly moans and your breath hitches in your throat.  
  
"A-and then I'd just barely start pumping my hand, sucking harder..."  
  
_"Mnngh,"_ he replies and you lose your train of thought.  
  
Breathing hard against the phone you tell him, "Once I-I got you worked up, I'd move faster. Bringing you close to the edge. I'd go until I could feel you start to twitch in my grip and then... I would stop."  
  
Sans is panting, he gives a frustrated sound through gritted teeth. _"Kitten, please, touch yourself. I-I wanna hear you._ Please."  
  
The imagined story dropped, you slip a hand into your panties and gasp sharply when your fingers find your swollen and wet clit. You remember what it felt like when he drove his tongue through the folds of your skin and you whimper against the phone.  
  
_"More, more, do-don't stop."_  
  
"Nnngh, Saaaannss."  
  
_"Fuck yes, oh God, o-oh..."_  
  
You work yourself higher before hitting an unsatisfying plateau. You pause to catch your breath and you hear Sans growl in disapproval. _"Kitten, I-I can't... Don't stop..."_ he whines. The sound sends shivers through your body.  
  
"L-let me get som-something to help." You tell him, sitting up and reaching down to rifle through your suitcase.  
  
" _Get what?"_ he asks, confused.  
  
"Well, if you _must_ know...a dildo."  
  
_"Oh, that's just fuckin' torture."_ he groans.  
  
"Really? I'm pretty sure it's smaller than you, if that's what you're worried about." You frown at the dildo in your hand, mentally comparing it with what you'd felt and seen before.  
  
_"No, no, I don't...I don't think I can wait. I wan-I want to feel you..."_  
  
You wanted to feel him too. To taste him. To fuck him. Your throat is suddenly dry but your mind is made up. "Then come touch me."  
  
_"Where are you?"_ his voice sounds steady for the first time in nearly an hour.  
  
You give him the address of your cabin and aren't the least surprised when you hear a faint pop inside the living room. You throw open your door and he turns to face you. He teleports to just inches in front of you. You both stare at each other before he reaches for your face and pulls you tightly to him.  
  
Your body ignites, passion and desire burning through your veins.  
  
Sans shoves you against the archway in front of your bedroom door and you jump to wrap your legs around his waist. His dick feels like solid rock pressed against you and you shudder through your kiss. He pulls away but immediately kisses your neck, his tongue and teeth caressing every bare inch from your jaw to your shoulder.  
  
Your hands tangle in his shirt and you can barely hear your harsh breathing over the pounding of your heart in your ears. "Take me," you pant against his skull. "Fuck me, break me..."  
  
Suddenly, you're on your back on the bed and he's looming over you. Lust and need wrinkle his sockets as he shakes above you. His pupils devour your half-naked form and he quickly sits up to take off his shirt. You shove your panties down your legs as she shifts out of his shorts, boxers, socks and shoes in record time.  
  
His knees press into the bed between your legs and his hands run softly up your thighs, hips, waist, all the way to your wrists, which he urges over your head. Sans leans into you, propping himself up on his elbow as his hand massages your breast. Your eyes flutter at his gentle touch, a moan escapes as his grip turns rougher. His lips crash into yours as he grinds his cock against your clit.  
  
Your hands slap against his shoulders, gripping them hard as you moan loudly into his mouth. He pulls his face from yours to let you catch your breath, nuzzling into your neck as he groans against your skin. "Oh, God, I've wanted this _so_ badly." His hand trails down your stomach. "No one's ever made me this crazy."  
  
You whimper behind tightly closed lips as he shifts his weight and pushes his fingers just barely through your wet entrance. "I just couldn't stand the thought of anything filling you but _me_ right now." His ring and middle fingers slide deep inside you and your hips buck in response.  
  
His eyes flutter shut and he sighs at the sounds you make as his hand pumps lazily. He curls his fingers and your mouth opens wide in silent surprise as he strokes that perfect spot. Sans pulls his hand away after several long moments and you gasp for air.  
  
You put a hand on his chest when he moves to crawl back on top of you. He looks back at you strangely as you smile devilishly. "I believe I still have a week of bed-bitch duties to claim?"  
  
"And you wanna claim it tonight?" he asks in disbelief.  
  
"Oh yeah," you reply, nodding your head slowly.  
  
Red sparks dance near his sockets as he smiles crookedly back at you. He takes one of your hands in his and softly kisses your knuckles. "As you wish, m'lady."  
  
"Oh God! _No!_ Don't say that!" You burst out laughing and he joins you.  
  
"You led me right into it." he laughs.  
  
"Mmhm, I think I know what to do with that witty mouth of yours..." you purr, pushing lightly on his shoulder.  
  
He chuckles as he slides between your legs, his smug smile staring back at you before he drags his cool red tongue from your taint to your clit. "Mm...good boy. Now, make me cum with just your tongue." Your voice easily slips into the tone you used when you were being a dom. Sans blinks slowly back at you and the hum of his soft moan against your vulva tells you you'd struck a chord with the large skeleton monster.  
  
"Oh, you like being called a 'good boy'?" you ask, heat burning in your cheeks as you smirk down at him. He surprises you with an earnest nod. His hands slide up to grip your thighs as he rolls his tongue, searching for every sensitive spot. You can't help your head rolling back with a long sigh. It had been far too long since you let someone give you head. And Sans knew _exactly_ what he was doing.  
  
Your hand finds the top of his skull and you press him harder against your pelvis. He moans, tugging you tighter to his face as his tongue slips into you. Your toes curl and you bite your bottom lip with a long moan. " _Mm-mmmore!_ " You cry out, eyes shutting tight as your thighs begin to tremble. "O-oh ! _SS-Sannns!_ " Your stuttering jogs a memory but you can't concentrate on it, you were nearly there...  
  
You give a long shout as he pins your hips to the bed and relentlessly laps at your clit. The orgasm builds, climbing higher and higher until your entire body is shaking and you're mindlessly begging him not to stop. Your hips buck and twitch beneath his strong grip as you scream his name.  
  
He relaxes the grip on your hips, lessening the pressure of his tongue against your skin as he guides you slowly down from your peak.  
  
You lay gasping for air on your back. "I...didn't think you had it in to be so _gentle..."_ You tell him in a daze.  
  
You lift your head to look at him when he doesn't have a snarky come-back. Your eyes widen in surprise. "Oh," you whisper. A scarlet mist clings to the edges of his sockets. A needy desperation you've never seen before covers his face and bores through you. You quickly sit up, pulling Sans upright. "I...did good?" he asks tentatively.  
  
You shiver. "Oh, fuck yeah you did." Thoughts race faster than you can process them. The liquor swirling in your head didn't help any either.  
  
Heat. He was in heat. Of course he was... But why was he so passive? Wait, no, that's what happens. This was normal. You two hadn't had sex yet, he didn't know the "boundaries". He was a little out of his head and trying to figure out what you liked best.  
  
Why did you know that?  
  
You're easily distracted by the insistent kisses at your neck. They quickly turn into love bites and Sans picks up fast that you like it rough. He grips the back of your neck and your waist, holding you tight to him as he starts biting harder, trying to find your limits. "S-Sans, wait."  
  
He grumbles against your ear. "Want to hear you scream again..."  
  
Your eyes flutter at that but you shake yourself out of it. You pull back to look him in the sockets. He looks drunk, sockets half-lidded, a crooked smile on his face... "I don't even know what you like." You switch your tone to the same one you used earlier as you gently grip his jaw. He gives you his full attention.  
  
You smirk at him. "You've been a good boy, tell mistress what you want as a reward."  
  
His sockets slide shut for a long moment. "To please you," he replies slowly, his thumbs stroking your waist.  
  
"You've already done that," you tenderly remind him.  
  
_"Again."_ he quickly replies.  
  
You chuckle at him, lightly patting his cheekbone. "How?" You ask, trying to get him to admit what he wanted to do to you.  
  
He shuts his eyes, biting his lips as a small shudder passes through him.  
  
You take his face with both hands and lock your gaze with his. "Show me. I trust you. Take me how you want, Sans."  
  
He surprises you by shoving you harshly to the bed. His pupils dance over your face before he kisses you deeply. Your eyes pop open when you feel his dick pressing against you. Before you can prepare yourself he drives himself fully into you with a moan that breaks your kiss. You gasp in shock and shiver with pleasure.  
  
He stretched you just this side of painful, but it was still _perfect._ He quickly picks up a ragged pace that pulls several shocked cries from your lungs. His hands slide to your wrists, pinning them above your head. The pressure of his weight supported on them tugs you toward that clear head-space when sex got rough and pleasantly painful.  
  
A pathetic hunger shines in his sockets through the thin red haze. The rolling of his hips becomes smoother but harder. The bed starts to beg for mercy, groaning and squeaking loudly when he curls close to bite at your breasts. Your hands clench and flex, uselessly writhing with pleasure as he growls against your skin. His teeth pinch, his tongue rolls over your skin and your thighs grip him tight as he easily brings hickeys to the surface.  
  
With another growl he grips both your wrists with one hand and shoves your right thigh to the bed so he can move freely. Each time he fully hilts it draws moans that slowly grow louder. Your arms strain against his grip, desperate to hold him. He leans closer, baring his teeth as air hisses through them. You'd know the face he's making anywhere...  
  
"C-cum for me, cum in me, Sans. Do it." Passionate words tumble from your lips as your own body tenses beneath his. God, you wanted to feel him lose himself wrapped so tightly by you. You moan softly as you feel him start to twitch inside you. His grip tightens, when his face meets yours his sockets are scrunched together, his jaw hangs slack. He pants hard before his sockets suddenly close and a series of perfect sounds escape him.  
  
" _A-ah!_ Oh...oh... _ffffuuuck_! I-I...!" he stops making words and moans tight-lipped with his skull tucked against your shoulder as he works his body. You feel your muscles start to spasm around him and your head snaps back as your orgasm quickly chases his.  
  
Breathless enthusiasm rings through his voice, and even though he's cum, he grits his teeth with a deep moan and thrusts hard into you until you fall limp beneath him.  
  
With a loud sigh, he rolls sideways to his back.  
  
The bed groans...  
  
...and shifts slowly sideways before collapsing to the floor with a loud _screeeeeeech!_  
  
Pulled from post-coital bliss by the ungraceful bounce on the floor, your eyebrows shoot up on your forehead in shock. You purse your lips to keep from laughing as you glance to your right at Sans. His eyes no longer hazed over, he looks back at you with a mix of remorse and barely restrained laughter.  
  
The moment your eyes meet you both lose control of yourselves and start laughing.  
  
After you two recover, you stand on wobbly legs and stride through the door to the living room where you'd left the moonshine and cherries. You were starting to sober up and a headache was beginning to pound behind your eyes. Right now, the only fixes for it would be sleep or more moonshine.  
  
And no way in hell were you going to sleep until you and Sans were _absolutely_ satisfied.

A small piece of you struggles to remember how he even got to your cabin, but the rest of you dismisses it. He teleported of course. Duh.  
  
You hear him groan as he hauls himself upright. You glance back at him over your shoulder as you trail a cherry through your drink by its' stem. He grimaces at the flattened bed. "Uh, I'm sorry about your bed. Want me to try and fix it?"  
  
You shake your head, sucking the moonshine from your cherry before dipping it in and doing it again. Numbness prickles along your tongue and you let the alcohol and afterglow wrap you in its' warm cocoon. So many thoughts and frayed images ripple at the edge of your awareness, all vying for your attention. So many questions you had for yourself and for him, so many emotions flooding your veins.  
  
"You okay?" Sans asks softly and you realize tears have been spilling down your cheeks. He steps closer to you, concern in his every movement.  
  
An inexplicable relief and...joy? It makes you choke out a happy sob. Sans takes the drink from your hands quickly and pulls you into his arms. You melt into his embrace and it feels like something long lost has returned to you.  
  
When you look up at him, his hands shift to cradle your face. You close your eyes as familiarity sparks in your brain, your body. Without speaking, you roll to your toes and kiss him.  
  
_His fingers tremble as they tangle in your hair and his lips carefully caress yours..._  
  
You pull him tighter to you as emotions you feel no connection to begin to take over. Passion builds between you and a frantic desperation makes it impossible to pull away from him. You'd missed him _so_ much. And now he was here, in your arms. He was yours.  
  
Tears still run down your face as static begins to build in your mind. You cling to him harder and he responds in kind.  
  
"Don't go," you pant between long kisses.  
  
"Never," he breathes against your lips.  
  
You pull him to the flagstone floor and he easily follows. Your bodies crash together and you cling to awareness by your fingertips. Static screams in your ears but you refuse to let it take you. _Not yet..._  
  
Before Sans can finish, you push against his shoulders and he rolls sideways. Straddling him, you rock your hips slow and hard, balancing your weight against his chest. His hand slaps the outside of your ass and you growl down at him with a smile, _"Harder."_ He moans breathlessly, smiling back at you as he smacks your other cheek with enough force to make you cry out and your hips falter.  
  
Sans sits up, cradling you against him as he guides you up and down his cock. The static fades, almost unnoticeable. You throw your head back when he bites down above your breast, his tongue slowly trailing down to your nipple.  
  
Scenes, snapshots, sounds, words, laughter, crying... They flash through your mind and you feel like you're stretching your arm through a thin, but durable veil. Any second now it would break and you know everything would make sense again...  
  
_Sans doesn’t look at you as a red light shimmers into life over his sternum. It takes the shape of an upside down heart. His soul. You hold back your gasp and let him slowly, oh so gingerly, guide your hands by your wrists to his chest until your fingertips brush the softly glow._  
  
You glance down, Sans looks back up at you, pulling away from your breast. In sync, you both place a hand over each other's sternums, bodies still working together. Suddenly his face is all you can see as a hot burst of magic sparks from his touch. Your limbs unexpectedly relax when he pushes your hand aside and you know without looking down that your souls are touching...  
  
* _I've missed you (Me too baby-doll, so much)_  
  
_*Don't go (I'm right here)_  
  
_*I love you (I love you)_  
  
Static finally overtakes you immediately after your shared orgasm subsides.  
  
You lay on the cold stone floor and sit up with a gasp, hands flying to your chest. You're shocked when your hands find nothing.  
  
Sans pants hard beside you, still flat on his back. You struggle to understand what just happened. Why did any of that make sense in the moment, but not now? Each time you reach out to remember exact details they shy away from your touch.  
  
You recover enough to turn back to Sans...but he's gone.  
  
You quickly search the living room, standing with several winces. He wasn't anywhere in the lodge. His clothes were still piled near the the broken bed in your room, so he'd definitely been there. How did he vanish so quickly? And so...naked?  
  
You reach for your nearly forgotten drink on the tall end-table near the couch with a shaky hand.  
  
_He could teleport._  
  
You knew that. But how? As far as you could remember he hadn't ever said he could do anything like that. There were other things that weren't making sense either. You were positive you'd felt things you had no reason to. You'd missed Sans? Even though you'd just had sex with him? It felt like you hadn't seen him in...years, a lifetime even.  
  
A sharp stabbing pain through your head makes you cry out in pain and clutch at your skull. You drop your glass and it shatters at your feet as you grab your head with both hands and scream in pain.  
  
Blinding white light scorches from behind your closed eyes. Numbers scroll rapidly, white noise fills your head until you feel like it'll burst.  
  
After what feels like hours, the pain slowly subsides and you struggle to catch your breath on your hands and knees. The only two things you're absolutely certain of in that moment are that you'd loved Sans for _much_ longer than was possible, and why you _hated_ cats...  
  
  
*  
  
  
Bonus Scene: Animal (Pt. 1)

  
  
Taa stands in the thick of the crowd of Grillby's. It was the third and final night of the MMHP and he had yet to see his mistress. It was his only night off for the festivities and he was on edge. Weeks of celibacy were beginning to take their toll on him. His obsession with his mistress wasn't helping.  
  
She just _had_ to be here tonight.  
  
The skeleton and his band were performing sensual, sex-driven music and the atmosphere of heat magic was suffocating him. He feels hands grasp lightly at him as he struggles to move through the crowd. He just needed to catch his breath.  
  
Outside. He had to go outside.  
  
He's surprised he makes it into the cool night air in one piece. He breathes deep with his head tilted back toward the sky. He stands there longer than someone would expect, beginning to sway slightly on his feet in a mild trance.  
  
He's ripped back to reality rudely as someone walks into him. He snarls as he spins to face them and barely restrains his anger when it turns out to be Sans, his two band-members and a few rowdy party-goers.  
  
Sans' smile dies, rotting into a terrifying scowl. "You gonna move outta the way, pussy-cat?" He growls, stepping close to Taa.  
  
Taa has to tilt his head back to still glare up at the larger skeleton. But standing this close he can't help but smell something unsettlingly familiar on him.  
  
His mistress. Her sweat, her blood... They were so clear, even under the soap Sans used.  
  
_"Y-you!"_ Taa growls lowly. His tail stands on end and his claws extend. "How _dare_ you-! _T-taint_ her!" Sans dodges the furious attacks Taa throws in quick succession. Taa yowls, spit flying as he hisses and advances on Sans.  
  
"Dude! _Calm the fuck down!_ " Hirsch yells, stepping between Sans and Taa. Hirsch catches an attack, but Taa is too crazed to even notice as the deer cries out, holding a hand to his face.  
  
Sans' sockets rise in fear before narrowing in rage and he lifts his left hand, pulling Taa's soul against his shirt and magically holding him several feet from everyone. Taa flails, feet scrambling against the concrete as he struggles in vain against Sans' magic. He screams. The yell is deranged, unhinged.  
  
Everyone but Sans flinch at the sound.  
  
It was too similar to another screech they were all familiar with...  
  
Bea and one of the humans in the group guide Hirsch back inside. Blood falls freely between his fingers, even with the harsh pressure he was putting on his cheek and eye. Doggo steps outside, his eyes searching blindly as his nose twitches.  
  
"Sans, wh-?"  
  
Taa laughs. It starts soft, just above a cough. But it builds until he's in hysterics. He no longer strains against Sans' magic grip. His head jerks back, bones crack as he rolls one of his shoulders. A thick green liquid oozes from his nose and sockets as his too-wide stare travels over Sans, Doggo, the polar bear who had his arms wrapped tightly around his human companion.  
  
 " _Can't stop me anymore. Sannns_." he purrs darkly as the light shining beneath his shirt slowly dies.  
  
Sans blinks steadily back at Taa, careful not to move as the toxic liquid magic drips down Taa's short muzzle. Without warning his eyes suddenly roll back in his skull and he collapses on the concrete.  
  
"Get inside," Sans breathes, glancing at the polar bear and the human. "Doggo, tell Grillby to call Alphys. It's an emergency."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy anyone still interested in the story! i haven't forgotten about it, far from it! i'm just stuck and trying to get the story to work out in a way that makes sense. plus i've moved and changed medications in the past few months...
> 
> the last time i took a break this long was because i needed the time off, but now it's just my brain refusing to cooperate. the meds are unfortunately a part of the brain fog, the ones i take "as needed" will put me out of commission for at least 24 hours as far as creative juices go. i've needed them less and less the past few weeks, so now i just have to hammer out the details of the next story arc and i'll be back to writing and updating soon!!


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